i grew up in budapest at the end of the communist era. i loved the city, i loved it's faded glory, the history that each facade riddled with bullet holes held, the tree lined allees. but above all i loved those amazing quiet moments, when i felt the city was all mine, when i was overcome with melancholy, reminiscent of a beautiful proust novel. whenever i go home, i still search for those moments, but i find them less and less. these photos are a small tribute to those times.
