A 5.2-foot band of salvaged doors crosses the concourse, stitching together fragments from other buildings into a single continuous line. The doors still carry dents, colors, handles and mail slots from the houses and shops they once served. Set into a precise white timber frame, these wounded surfaces become a horizontal wound in the terminal: a cut that lets memory, light and movement leak through.

Rather than adding a new object to the airport, the project edits the existing space. You can see over the doors and under them; the view of the runway is never fully closed, only interrupted and re-framed. Walking along the band, travelers read a sequence of thresholds: domestic, institutional, improvised. Suture Line treats reuse not as decoration but as structure—an operational seam that binds demolition waste, everyday architectures and global transit into a single, walkable drawing.