To this day I clearly remember the old family camera, a 35mm Voigtländer with an optical viewfinder, which my father had bought in Germany before I was even born. It was during the time when he was working there as a migrant worker. It was mostly used by my mother, who ordinarily used it to record all the important things and events in our family. During my childhood and growing up into a young man, I was not really interested in photographing. I was more interested in the big box with the family photos. I loved those photos, I enjoyed browsing through them, and loved sorting them into groups that made sense only to me. It was my sanctuary.
A long time has passed since I lost a big box with family photographs in war, and a few salvaged copies I found in the meantime, at relatives, are not enough to fill the void that was left after the loss. Although nothing can replace what was lost, I find images which, as a nostalgic illusion of some past reality, help me in my effort to fill the gaping void of introspection and recover from the loss of family photos. Those favourite ones that are gone, only exist in my memory anyway… until they fade from there, too, and vanish forever.