Until I became a father, history was
something my parents and grandparents
were responsible for. Now, maybe soon, I would have to explain to my children, how in the land of Oma and Opa, the place of
winter-wonderland fairytales and their father’s home, an unspeakable evil happened.
The following collection of pictures, mostly of my son,
is the result of two short trips to Germany in 1994 and 1995. This was only the second time I had brought my son home and the film in my camera became my diary.
In 1995, commemorations were being held all over Germany to mark the 5oth anniversary of the end of World War II, but reports of neo-Nazi attacks on foreigners continued to make the headlines.
I wanted to pay my respects. I brought my family along because for me they represent all that is hopeful and good in the world.
