“It wasn’t for better wages or fancy taps in the bathroom. I didn’t want a system looking into my life and telling me what to do and what not to do. I can’t even tell you when I took the decision. At some point I just knew.“
In 1975, my father took a plane from East Berlin to Budapest, from where he boarded a train to Romania. On 15th July, under the covers of a new moon, he swam over the Danube, in his swimming trunks 50 West Mark and passport.
His escape route took him 3500km from Schönhauser Allee in East Berlin through Hungary, Romania, Yugoslavia, Austria, West Germany, and ending at Danckelmannstraße in West Berlin, 9km from his starting point. This series documents revisits the Danube, and his point of no return: the critical point in a decision-making process where one has committed oneself irrevocably to a course of action.
(note: The German title "Fluchtpunkt" means vanishing point. Literally, it translates as "point of flight.")