I left my little family on Sunday, less than five days ago, and I suddenly feel homesick. I have been looking at these pictures taken last weekend, my heart beating faster, this regular rhythm of Kin-csem-Kin-csem-Kin-csem as well as the undertones of Matthi-as-Iza-bel-Matthi-as-Izabel each and every time I pass a mother pushing a pram or holding a toddler by his hand. I seem to be noticing exclusively married couples with children – the other day, while in Bucharest, I saw a gipsy mother under 20, carrying a hungry baby in one arm and being followed by her equally starving toddler – I bought food and gave it to her, smiling, my heart was aching inside. The children smiled the same smile of my very own – that innocent, full of gratitude for being noticed, for beign cared for. That gentle smile you wish the world was made of. I miss my crew. Badly.