I'm drawn to the edges of things.

Forgotten spaces. Spaces slowly disappearing. Places that hold something odd, something that doesn't quite belong, where if you stand still long enough the world tilts and reality shows you another face. I find them across North America, Europe and Africa, always off the main roads, and I never say exactly where. Some places last longer when fewer people know the way.

Every photograph here is real. The stories are not. They're mine: my reading of what the frame holds, my invention, my imagination running past the edges of the picture.

To me, a photograph is the wardrobe you step through. The puzzle box you turn over in your hands. The looking-glass you stare into a little too long. The tesseract folded up in your head that sends you careening across every story hiding in the shot.

Owen Ramsaidh