My father remained a while in the parental home, but after he knew my mother, he moved to Timisoara, a city in the west of Romania. A big part of my childhood I spent in my grandmother’s village, Susca, there I had the freedom to explore a free playground, wild, untouched by the struggle of a confused society that tried desperately to find its identity. Sometimes I helped my grandma at the field works, this didn’t bring me any joy, but it was a big bonus for me, as I realized much later.  This is how I am remembered by my grandma and probably this is why my relationship with her became so special, I’ve always felt her close to my soul.

She is 90 years old now and barely moves around, but I’m thankful that her clear mind is still there. When I’m able to visit her,  we speak about her past, about the people that influenced her life and I always try to keep her updated with the news from the political world.

The thing that caught my attention was the way she succeeded to manage the pain of parting her children, to live with the hope that she will see them one day together. Her dream was fulfilled in 1990, right after the Romania revolution from 1989. It was a touching moment, I was too little, only 9 years old, I couldn’t realize the importance of that instant. Lately I’ve started  to gather more and more photographic material about my grandmother’s universe, whose silence and simplicity continues to follow me.

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