Embracing light leaks, dust, scratches and damage, this work investigates the duration of youth: those cloudy notions of the self in the most significant years of 'becoming'.

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I observe my brother, Zsombor, initially on a late-autumn afternoon emerging from his childhood. I look at the choreography formed by his own nature and listen to him while he tries to define himself. I watch him struggling to find a comfortable posture, a place for his long hands, which gives me greater appreciation for the privacy of a sibling relationship. 

As a photographer, I seek the right form which complements his body shapes, whilst simultaneously hoping to provide that universal space for memory, as a re-occurring feeling of youth which awakens in many us when looking at the young body, before starting to fade again in the texture of time. 

As a sister, I am seeking for the boy, who I fought so much with, but taught so much to. I tend to forget those seven years of my life before him. I analyse the hands, the limbs, the face like a physician because all I see is change and transformation. There is a guilt in the dark tone of these photographs, the failure of my care, a responsibility to fulfil - as an older sister - but being unable to be there. 

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The darkroom prints placed into the chemicals, reveal the human form growing older, however, they also uncover the damages caused on the material by the handling of the negatives.