Only when habitus and some emotion mirrored in the face of the people I met on the streets had punctured my fears, I did overcome my inhibitions to establish contact and to take some photographs.
1989, directly after the fall of the Berlin Wall, I started travelling to Eastern Germany, soon to become part of the country I was born to. All I had with me was a sleeping bag and my camera. I slept at odd places, got up early because of the morning cold, and tried to capture what I saw, because I knew, it would be gone soon.
As so often, my intuitive reactions were stronger than the concept that I had in mind. Instead of photographing that what was and soon wouldn´t be anymore, I made portraits of children that reflected a part of me and my childhood that I had put firmly aside.
My photographs were reminiscent of a time that was yesteryear already in the moment I took them. I didn´t photograph the present: I photographed my past. I took pictures in a country that was closer in look and feel to my Hungarian roots than the country I was born in.