I moved to Lincoln in 2019, and I’m proud to call this city my newfound home. Near the Cathedral time seems to roll back by a century as tarmac dissolves into cobblestone roads, as the entire city is visible from the hilltops. Lincoln is by no means a big city, but the streets are alive with all kinds of beautiful personalities.

Whether it be working a bar shift and walking home at 3am, listening to the geese cry out along the canal as the sun rises over the Brayford pool, or enduring the blistering winter winds; Lincoln is a place that as I’ve photographed over the years has felt almost unreal. The photographs below are filled with all kinds of scratches and imperfections.

I wouldn’t have it any other way. Lincoln is an old beast, slumbering as the world rushes by. Its skin is cracked, imperfect and marked with the steps of those who climbed its hills hundreds of years ago. A few scratches and imperfections seem like a fitting tribute.