Laura Hueso

Every morning Krilli prepares the myriad ingredients required to make the lobster soup at the Bryggjan café, a tiny eatery in Iceland’s dullest town. His wife helps him in the kitchen and yearns to return to Rejkyavik. In the café, Krilli’s brother Alli sits with the old fishermen, the last boxer in Iceland and the translator of Don Quixote into Icelandic. Every day they find a new answer to the world’s problems. Once a month the neighbours meet at the Bryggjan café to remember those who died in Grindavik and pronounce their names. Four crazy musicians play jazz. A few lost tourists turn up at the fishing harbour and are captivated by the atmosphere in the café. Real people, they think. A real place. On the other side of the mountain is the Blue Lagoon, the island’s great attraction. People from all over the world come in fascination to see the volcanoes, the ice and the genesis of the Earth.

My grandfather Antonio was born on the street and was a vagabond until he got married. When he was just a child, he and his father walked thousands of kilometres from Valencia to the Pyrenees in order to survive. He was writing his memoirs for a while but had to abandon them because it affected him so much to remember his life. Now, 75 years later, we're going to walk the same route together, using cinema to try to bring out the memories that are stuck in his head and try to get him to finish writing his book.

Spanish Civil War, May, 1938. Four villages in Castellón, Benassal, Albocàsser, Ares del Maestrat and Vilar de Canes, were bombed from the sky and ravaged. 38 people died. Inhabitants never knew for sure who piloted the planes responsible for such atrocity, although the rebel propaganda attributed the act to the republican side. Now, 80 years later, the truth is finally exposed.

Lucky endures the party days’ rhythm, with no other drugs than music and his girlfriend Glow. The night never ends, and amid the revelry, rumors spread: two charred bodies have appeared in an abandoned house near the road.

After more than 75 years, Vicente Montejano tells us first-hand about his experience of more than 14 years in the Russian Gulag after the end of the Spanish Civil War.