Francisco Borges

It’s winter and there is no rain. Sofia returns to her grandmother’s house. In the mountains, she finds a land where only the Wind lives. All that’s left of the house is dust and ashes. In the attic, Sofia finds pieces of lives other than her own. That’s where the house listens.

No description available.

As the region burns with religious fervor, men and women mounted on horses and carts move through the Peninsula. At the same time, two men inherited a dry plot of land. Coming from the coast, with some seeds left by the former owner, they cross the desert that now serves as their backyard.