I first met András in the summer of 2007 while searching for photographic subjects near the village of Máriahalom. He was sitting on the curb in front of his house, smoking a cigarette. His striking face immediately caught my attention. I stopped to talk to him, and that day I made the first portraits of him.

Over the following years, I returned regularly. What began as a portrait project gradually became something more. These visits gave me the opportunity to gain insight into András's daily life, a world shaped by the house he had inherited from his parents, the surrounding fields and forests, and the memories he carried with him.

When we first met, András was in remarkably good physical condition. He spent long hours walking the countryside, exploring the forests and fields around the village, and regularly visiting his parents' grave. As the years passed, however, the decline of both his living conditions and his health became increasingly apparent. The house slowly fell into ruin, and with it a way of life that seemed deeply tied to the place where he had spent most of his years.

The last time I saw him, his appearance had changed dramatically. He had cut off the long beard and shaved the silver hair that had once become almost a part of his identity. Shortly afterwards, I lost touch with him. A year or two later, I learned from villagers that András had passed away.