This series presents the inexplicable peculiarity that Hungary, my homeland, means for me. In recent years, I have spent a lot of time abroad, longing for someplace else, like many of my eastern european contemporaries, believing that my place and happiness lie somewhere out there.
While there are still a lot of things I don’t like about Hungary, something has changed. I have started to look at my environment with a forgiving, strange kind of love. I have stopped having expectations or wanting to change anything, and I have begun just observing my home, almost like a tourist.
A whole new enchanted world has opened up to me. Everyday life is now permeated by a sense of nostalgia. It is as if time had stopped between a dream never to be reached and the remembrances of a past I myself had never experienced. Everything has gravity and significance, while in the meantime it’s all just the same and nothing really matters.
Homesick and Homeland are both weird feelings for my generation that lives nowhere and everywhere.
