Valencia: family. First desires.
Villa in Llíria: childhood in summer. Solitary games.
Dénia: peak season, working twelve hours a day without seeing the sea.
Sahara: emptiness and everything in synchronicity.
Menorca: pleasure, knowledge, sun, water.
Palenque: living past.
Barcelona: living present.
Bilbao. Rain coat. Going up the hill. Going down the hill. Humidity in the bones and such a cold that gets into you and grabs you from the inside. These are not metaphors.
Bilbao. Father.
Benidorm. Grandfather.
Benidorm. Sun, sea and heat.
In the sea, in the water all day. Floating all day.
A terrace in the shade. Peace and company. To feel at peace and be in company. Working on holiday homework books in peace and in company.
Grandfather Jose Mari before his leg was amputated.
Grandfather Jose Mari after his leg was amputated.
Going to the beach in the morning and in the afternoon playing at building a beach on the terrace at home.
Sand, sun and heat.
Heat. Shivering in the heat. Literally defrosting deep-seated cold.
The favourite granddaughter.
He used to let me win at crazy golf.
Icecreams with sparklers.
The bottom of the sea. Full of squid, crustaceans and jellyfish. Diving, floating.
A village called Barracas. Halfway between the Cantabrian and Mediterranean seas. Eating a tortilla sandwich always under the same tree.
My girlfriends from the beach. From being little naked girls to covering our pussys, to covering our breasts.
First brutal and desperate desires.
Benidorm. From little girl to adolescent.
A beach in Sitges. A sea ray came, caressed my legs, and left.
The bottom of the sea. In a former life I was a marine animal and that has stayed with me.
Itxaso means sea. My father said he chose my name because the sea is beautiful and full of strength and life, but dangerous: when you go in you never know if you’ll come out again. A lot of responsibility, don’t you think?
Orthopaedic leg in a swimsuit.
I feel my boobs growing. And I learn they’re small according to the rules of comparison.
Playing on the beach. Playing and playing. Pleasure and pleasure. Feeling accompanied.
It has something to do with fun.
It’s riding a rollercoaster and feeling scared because your sister is slipping through the bars.
It’s riding the biggest rollercoaster five times in a row.
It’s like the day-to-day. Yes. Love doesn’t change, it remains the same.
It’s the aquapark and the endless water slides.
It’s my grandfather holding me in the pool.
It’s the memory of photographs.
It’s peaceful solitude seen from the distance. Envy of my younger self.
It’s a 12 hour journey.
It’s the heat. The taking off of a t-shirt. The itchiness on your back from the car seats.
It’s a swarm of jellyfish. It’s being surrounded by 12 jellyfish like a Colombian cartel.
It’s the question: what to do in a car for 12 hours?
It’s the onset of adolescence. It’s fear. It’s sexuality.
It’s no big deal.
It’s waiting, learning, and understanding the rhythms of others.
It’s resting.
It’s that going to the village you never had.
It's what to do in times in between.