There was this small and smoky working class pub in our neighborhood called "Tosca". As a child I only entered this dark place for buying ice-cream every now and then, feeling very insecure. I never liked it, always prejudging it for being a rude place full of alcoholics, despite my dear father went there and still goes there on a regular basis.
Back in 2010, being 35 years old, I was ready for looking back into time, I wanted to know what this mystic place is really all about, what kind of people my father is spending his time with. In two nights, I set up a mobile photo studio in the back room of the pub and took portraits of the regular guests and my fathers friends. I was interested in their characters, the stories their faces tell, not the stories they wanted me to hear.
I met the man who kicked me off my bmx and the father of the two brothers everybody was regretting when we were children. And I was surprised to find the nice old granny living next door to my parents house, and a bunch of very polite and warm-hearted people my father was among.