A person resides in this murky interstitial space: sitting by the fire escape, suspended on the side of a building, with scenic view into the gulch of the alleyway that yawns beneath.

The person is gone now, but they have left their mop and chair, proof of their human presence. They exist in time and space through markers that lurk, waiting for discovery, since their presence betrays the person's absence.

The person has ellipsed. They are present and gone at the same time. The possibility of their presence haunts the space they have left. 

We, the observers, are only in the position to observe this simply because we have ellipsed the common usage of space. We climbed into the interstitial space and became witnesses to its temporal interplay.