I grew up in a small country village long before the internet, social media and smartphones conquered the world. Like most families in our neighborhood, we only had one common phone in the corridor – with a three-digit number (561) and a rotary dial switch. However, the next possibility to close a door was three meters away the phone had only one-meter cable. Due to this every word of a phone conversation could be heard by all other family members. When I got to the age where everybody needs a little more privacy, I built up a special relationship with the one and only phone booth in town. The yellow glass door seals off my heart pounding, my insecurity, my desire, my sadness and sometimes even my happiness against the outside world. Years later, when I found out that it should be removed, I came back and made some analogue photos of this cell.









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