A narrow cubicle on the upper floor of the Terminus Hotel, framed by tiled walls and a single frosted window above the cistern.
Dust clings to the bowl and seat, while brittle ivy tendrils hang from the sill, creeping in from the outside world. Once a private space for guests, the room now feels static and airless, its surfaces dulled by time and neglect.
Even here, the boundary between nature and abandonment is drawn with quiet persistence.
Printed on museum-grade fine art paper, this photograph offers an unassuming yet poignant reflection on time, stillness, and the gentle reach of nature indoors.