Since my childhood in the sixties, i was dreaming of traveling around the world, i read all the travel books of my village´s library. When i finnished them, i knew it´s time to go. My father, an oldschool communist, was as a german soldier in the South of France, when he was taken to jail in 1944. As a prisoner, he had to work for a man from Toulon, and after a while they became best friends. Since then, our familiy went to Toulon, whenever we had the money for it. As a child i learned, that there are part of the world with a different light, smell and lifestyle, too. I still remember every detail of this wonderfull, never ending dinner parties in the appartment, in the old part of the town, near the harbour. With seventeen, my parents allowed me to go for a long trip to Turkey. This became a mutch bigger trip, it didn´t go to Turkey, it went around it, also into mysterious Curdistan and further to Persia. In a way, that travel never ended, it´s still going on, and like in love, every love has to do with the first love. For me, traveling is all about longing …
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