Left when I was 14 but somehow when I think of my origin, that is what I find as answer. I am not from "Romania", and that is not because the gypsies on the streets has given it bad names recently. I did not feel Romanian, even when I lived there, until I was 30.
I am not Hungarian, even if my mother language is and that I did not speak almost any other until I was 14, and even if my culture is Hungarian more then any else. I went to Hungary a few times, and less and less I felt "Hungarian", real one.
I am French, yes, for I have lived in France more then in any place and now, for a long time already I write in French in my diary, probably I even think in that language!
But if was Transylvania when I went back so many years after, I felt as "I am home, again".
I never lived in the country, my home was the biggest town the university town far from the mountains, we had only slight slopes. And long traditions. But even when I went with my car to tour the country side, I felt "home".
Stopped, near a small street, no asphalt in those villages! That peasant come with his old looking scythe, and I was interested in taking it. As soon as he had seen us, who I was with I do not remember, he took of his hat.
He posed, when he understood, I want him with his instrument.
Then I went closer.
I promised that I'll send him a photo, he was happy and gave me his address. But going closer, speaking to him, I observed his beautiful blue eyes, his nice friendly face too.
And I learned also, it is worth going closer to people, speaking with them, taking a second look.
If I ever make a book, as I intend, he will be my first example. From him started all the other images, one from farther, the second a lot closer. When I felt it is too close to give a good portrait, I went fast a bit farther and zoomed. But I still like approach, speak. About them, about me. Feel the connection.
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