Bali is one of those places that seems impossible to photograph honestly.

Everywhere you look there are postcard scenes waiting to happen: perfect beaches, impossibly green rice fields, temples, sunsets and infinity pools. It’s easy to come home with a roll full of proof that you were there, and very little of how it felt.

I spent most of this roll looking for smaller moments.

The shimmer of koi beneath a broken reflection. A tunnel of palms beyond a rice field. The surface of a swimming pool turning a familiar figure into something abstract. Children standing at the edge of the sea, watching boats disappear towards the horizon.

Kodak Gold felt perfectly suited to Bali. The film softened the intensity of the tropical light and gave the greens and blues a gentler character than I expected. The colours feel less like reality and more like memory, which is perhaps what travel photography becomes anyway.

Looking back through the negatives, the photographs that stay with me aren’t necessarily the obvious landscapes. They’re the moments between destinations. The places where water catches light. The brief pause before entering somewhere unfamiliar. The small details that would be easy to walk past without a camera in hand.

Perhaps that’s why I keep returning to film. It encourages a slower way of seeing. Thirty-six exposures isn’t enough to photograph everything, but it’s usually enough to notice what matters.

These photographs are a small selection from a few weeks wandering through Bali with a camera, a couple of rolls of Kodak Gold, and no real plan beyond paying attention.