The border is not a line. It is a territory — one that belongs fully to neither country and is claimed fiercely by the people who live inside it. I drove its length over fifty days, stopping in towns that exist only because the border exists.
There is an economy of waiting here. People wait for papers, for calls, for the right moment to cross. The photographs are about that waiting — the light it produces, the way it changes a face.
Shot on Kodak Portra 800 and Fuji Neopan 1600 pushed two stops. The grain was intentional. Some moments require texture.