This is how Kálmán Mikszáth, a Hungarian writer called his motherland, Palócföld (the Land of the Palóc). I first wrote it as a commentary to a photo portraying a muddy, crooked dirt road in December. Then I started to use it more frequently, and this also became the title of my photo book, because it expresses why I like this area vividly: it’s nice and lovely. This title describes a somewhat mythical, closed world, it’s exactly like Palócföld.

I always have a two-fold goal: on the one hand to convey to the people living there how valuable they are – this is why I keep going back with paper photographs, to cause them joy.

In addition, my main goal is to take photos allowing many of us to recognize old summers, and a world we have all been (and still are) a part of. Perhaps many of us have memories of running around barefoot in the yard, chasing after chickens, or listening to grandma telling stories while sitting on the small stool, shelling peas. I want to tell about an old, true life with my photos.