A walk along childhood streets intensified my sensitivity. Birds whistling and dancing around the trees with the smells in the fresh spring wind embraced me on a time travel.

40 years ago I was young and free. Listening to these same whistles, smelling those same fragrances of nature. Seems like only one thing has changed ever since. I travelled the continent.

Along the roads passed and the streets crossed one thing captivated my mind. Little or nothing of the truth is left behind. Only hints, fractals and tiny particles of facts were retained.

Collided in gigantic lab of tourism guidebooks, historical monographs or multimedia shows. Mixed in the synthetic voices of digital guides or romantic sounds of beautiful local guides.

Thus to get as close to the truth as possible, a vagabond must do 2 things really good.

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