I visited local pubs on both sides of the Peace Line, in politically sensitive areas rarely seen by tourists, interviewing and photographing the people inside. These were deeply local places — no polished décor, no landmarks worth a photograph. Many regulars lived just around the corner, having come to the same pub for decades as part of their daily routine.

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People were warm and curious toward me. I pushed myself to open up and start conversations. Belfast's distinctive accent, unfamiliar at first, grew to feel deeply familiar.

This was my first time working with a medium-format film camera. Every shot demanded careful thought before the shutter, then a patient wait for development — the texture and narrative quality unique to film turned each moment into something that could never be erased. That interval of waiting gave me an entirely new relationship with photography.

To me, these pubs felt like isolated "public houses," divided by political and religious lines. People from the other side of the Peace Line wouldn't cross over — but as a foreign visitor, I could move freely between both sides. This deep-rooted animosity did not touch me.