As a child, I traveled a lot because I hated the place where I grew up. Even though I did it only in my head, it was the only way to escape the grey reality. That way I could be far from all the problems. I created new worlds, sitting for hours in the crown of an old tree. Their complex structure was composed of fragments of reality and images remembered from films watched on VHS. This mixture was complemented by creations of my imagination rooted in local folklore and beliefs. It was such a vast and absorbing area that I explored it for many years.
As I grew up, I gradually lost access to this part of myself. Escaping to inner worlds no longer provided an apparent sense of security. Eventually, it became impossible. Only fragments of images that come back to me remain in my memory. I try to confront them with what surrounds me. It’s the only way I know to come to terms with the place where I grew up.
