In the interior of Portugal. Near the country’s largest mountain chain, the land once cultivated is being abandoned. Life flows to the rhythm of the wind as it sweeps through the mountains. Time seems to stand still between the tinkling of cattle bells and the calloused hands of the few who still work the land. It is a place where solitude finds company in shared memories. In these valleys, every stone holds stories and dreams. Right there, between the past and the present, live beings that resist, carved in stone. There is still enough strength to plant new roots. The land, patient, waits for those who dare to believe that there is always another spring ahead.