Jaime Puertas Castillo

Aurora is a Romani woman who lives in a phantom village in the South Sierra. She spends her days while the village empties, animals die, houses burn and the field dries. The arrival of a new forest ranger will make Aurora understand the signs of a mobile world that tries to wake her from the lethargy.

The highlands of Granada, Spain, 2027. Among sheep, ruins and drones, a student and two shepherds meet and connect. Their lives entangle as they explore the history of a homestead that appears and vanishes at will.

A one-way trip going, another one coming back. A head injury. A donkey. Sheep. The church. A stew. The belfry. Candles. The wind blowing. Dawn. The confusion. The cobbled streets. Solitary steps. Birds that fly. Unmatched mirrors. Where can we find a true image on this night that is falling?

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Aurora is a Romani woman who lives in a phantom village in the South Sierra. She spends her days while the village empties, animals die, houses burn and the field dries. The arrival of a new forest ranger will make Aurora understand the signs of a mobile world that tries to wake her from the lethargy.

Aurora is a Romani woman who lives in a phantom village in the South Sierra. She spends her days while the village empties, animals die, houses burn and the field dries. The arrival of a new forest ranger will make Aurora understand the signs of a mobile world that tries to wake her from the lethargy.

The highlands of Granada, Spain, 2027. Among sheep, ruins and drones, a student and two shepherds meet and connect. Their lives entangle as they explore the history of a homestead that appears and vanishes at will.

The highlands of Granada, Spain, 2027. Among sheep, ruins and drones, a student and two shepherds meet and connect. Their lives entangle as they explore the history of a homestead that appears and vanishes at will.

A one-way trip going, another one coming back. A head injury. A donkey. Sheep. The church. A stew. The belfry. Candles. The wind blowing. Dawn. The confusion. The cobbled streets. Solitary steps. Birds that fly. Unmatched mirrors. Where can we find a true image on this night that is falling?