Torre, it's the small village where my entire family comes from, hidden among yellow fields, in the heart of the Sierra de la Demanda at an altitude of 997 meters...

A place where time seems to have stood still, where the kings of the streets are the animals, and the people who live there can be counted on one hand.

Where the internet barely reaches, tomatoes taste like tomatoes, and the mooing of cows is more common than the noise of cars.

In summer, the air smells of thyme, and everything is painted yellow by the sunflower and grain fields.

In winter, it smells of petrichor, and everything is blanketed in white snow.

Welcome to my Aldea, welcome to the other part of me.

Alba.