Every home has a space for storing things; a hidden corner or room, large or small, full of clutter where discarded, unused or broken objects end up. It could be a leaky attic or a dark loft with nesting owls, where what you are looking for is always underneath everything else. A storeroom where, every time you open the door, forgotten objects fall down on top of you.
Our ‘zaquizamí’ is at the end of the hall and holds our history. It has three crooked shelves, a badly fitting door that is locked with a key and a naked electric bulb hanging from the ceiling. But when the light goes out and the door closes, the party begins. The entities who live there come to life; to play and to dream, and to hope that no one hears them.Veure més a Escena Familiar