In January 1992, the Lindoso reservoir, managed by the Portuguese hydroelectric company EDP, submerged the towns of Aceredo, Buscacalque, O Bao, Lantemil, and A Reloeira, on the border between Galicia and Portugal. That fateful day froze those towns in time, marking the end of an era for its inhabitants. Three decades later, a severe drought has nearly drained the Lindoso Reservoir, exposing the remains of lives that once thrived there. In the picture, the remnants of a demolished house in one of these villages serve as a haunting reminder of the neglect that has befallen the entire region.

Tony used to arrive home with nuts, claiming that his girlfriend, Rosemary, had given them to him. However, Rosemary only existed in his mind. Tony resides in Atas, a small remote village on the border between Galicia and Portugal. He grew up with alcoholic parents and, unfortunately, became an alcoholic himself. Tony says, "I remember that when I was a child my father would put a glass of wine on the table for me and tell me 'Drink! A little bit won't hurt you." When Tony drinks alcohol he quickly loses control over himself to the point of losing an eye due to a car accident while driving drunk. He currently lost his job due to his alcoholism and lives on state aid and his family's charity. The depression in the area, the lack of job opportunities, and the communication difficulties made it even more challenging for him to overcome his alcoholism.

In the 1970s, in the village of O Bao, located on the border between Galicia and Portugal, a house was built for the forest ranger to live in. His task was to safeguard the area’s forests, particularly to prevent wildfires. After the construction of the Limia River dam in the 1990s, the village of O Bao was completely submerged, including the forest ranger’s house, which resurfaced 30 years later due to the drought that had nearly emptied the reservoir. The house, seemingly floating on the water, appears like a ghost of the life that once thrived there. According to Francisco Gallato, a former resident of O Bao: “Perhaps the passage of time will one day heal all the pain caused by the abandonments brought about by the emigrations of the past.”

The Galician wild horse, also known as “Besta” constitutes a unique cultural legacy with a great connection with the history of Galicia, its rural landscape, and its natural values. In the last half-century, the population of this animal has been reduced by half. Factors such as the abandonment of rural areas, deforestation due to fires, or the replanting of invasive species are leading to the collapse of the Wild Horse population, so much so that its population has been reduced from 22,000 to less than 10,000 heads in the past 50 years, according to a doctoral thesis from the University of La Coruña. These animals contribute to addressing some of the problems derived from the climate emergency, the depopulation of rural areas, and the biodiversity crisis. Although this colony of ‘Bestas’ remains the largest in Europe, it is at serious risk of disappearance, according to studies from the University of La Coruña.

Galicia suffers from a devastating number of forest fires, which account for 80% of the fires in Spain. This may also be due to its dense vegetation, a result of the abundance of water. The year 2021 marked a record with more than 9,000 reported fires, which consumed over 35,000 hectares of land. These disasters not only wreak havoc on biodiversity but also have adverse consequences on air quality, the health of local communities, and have caused variations in the flow of rivers and reservoirs, contributing to widespread drought.

Nacho is 40 years old and originally from Zaragoza, a city almost 1,000 kilometers away from Galicia. After a turbulent youth, he decided to isolate himself in the Galician mountains to live a life less dependent on society. Today, he cares for his herd of goats, with whom he shares a very special bond: he hugs them, talks to them, and cares for them as if they were his children. Every morning, he takes them to the mountains early so they can graze, and he doesn’t return home until nightfall. In these animals, he seems to have found the meaning of his existence. Nacho lives in an old, occupied stone house without electricity. His diet consists of vegetables and the milk his goats produce. As he says, his dream would be to eat like the goats, feeding on the herbs of the mountains. Nacho leads a hermit-like life, finding in this self-imposed exclusion from normalized society a true sense of freedom.

The interior of a house abandoned for 70 years in a rural Galician village, is lit by a reddish light from sunlight filtered through the smoke of a forest fire. Galicia is among the regions most affected by rural depopulation in Spain: over 3,000 villages have been abandoned since 1950, leading to unmanaged forests and overgrown vegetation, significantly increasing fire risk. This lack of land management is a key factor in the region's high incidence of forest fires, where more than 24,000 hectares burned in 2022, exceeding the average of the past decade. Abandoned homes like this one reflect the cycle of depopulation and its environmental consequences.

A rural inhabitant of Galicia leans against a tree, observing a theatrical protest addressing water issues and opposing the planned construction of Altri’s factory in Palas de Rey. Local farmers and residents fear that the factory’s water consumption—estimated at 46 million liters per day—could disrupt the region’s renowned cheese production. Palas de Rey is renowned for its artisanal cheese production, a vital part of the area’s cultural heritage and local economy, which faces potential threats from the industrial activity and environmental impact that Altri’s project could bring.

A view of the nearly dry Limia River, with water levels far below normal, visible in the exposed mountain slopes. This section belongs to the Lindoso reservoir, which in 2021 was nearly empty after its gates were opened to capitalize on rising electricity prices, maximizing economic returns from hydroelectric generation. Such decisions have severe impacts on biodiversity, as drastic fluctuations in water flow disrupt river ecosystems, displacing species and affecting their reproduction. Furthermore, they worsen climate change by reducing reservoirs’ ability to serve as vital water reserves during increasingly frequent droughts. The Limia River area also suffers from significant pollution due to the intensive use of fertilizers and slurry in extensive agriculture. These practices have degraded water quality and are linked to a high percentage of cancer cases in the region, highlighting the environmental and public health consequences of this expansive agricultural model.

Sabela, a young Galician girl, plays in the forests of Palas de Rey, hugging a tree—a gesture that embodies the deep communion of the Galician people with their natural environment. This forest, brimming with life and stories, starkly contrasts with the plans of the Portuguese company Altri, which aims to build a cellulose plant nearby. The factory is projected to consume 46 million liters of water per day and will promote the expansion of eucalyptus monocultures, an invasive species threatening to replace the biodiversity of these woods. The contrast between Sabela’s symbolic connection to nature and the aggressiveness of an industrial model like Altri’s reflects the environmental and social dilemmas Galicia faces today.

Apples, nearly rotten, rest upon the stone of a fountain in the garden of a house in Santiago de Compostela, the capital of Galicia. This image contrasts with the lush vegetation that defines the region, shaped by some of the highest rainfall in Europe: Santiago receives an annual average of 1,573 liters per square meter. Yet, Galicia faces the paradox of being a water-rich region devastated by forest fires, which in some years have accounted for up to 80% of all fires in Spain. This contrast highlights how land management and rural abandonment impact the balance between natural abundance and environmental disasters.

Martina, a medium school teacher from Teo, poses in Palas de Rey during a break from the theatrical play “Son de Aldea,” which this year focused on water. This festival, which explores a different theme each year, centered in 2024 on an original and peaceful protest against the establishment of the Altri cellulose factory. This industry poses a significant threat to Palas de Rey’s rural ecosystem and biodiversity, impacting water resources and promoting the expansion of eucalyptus monocultures—an invasive species that degrades the soil and displaces native flora. Through initiatives like this play, the local community aims to raise awareness about the risks Altri poses to the region’s environmental and social sustainability.

The surface of the Ulla River, as it passes through the Palas de Rey's area, reflects the falling raindrops, symbolizing the water abundance that defines Galicia. The region receives an annual average precipitation of 1,000 to 1,500 mm, exceeding 2,000 mm in mountainous areas, making it one of the rainiest in Europe. However, this wealth contrasts with current environmental challenges. The Ulla, like many Galician rivers, faces threats related to pollution from agricultural and industrial activities. Furthermore, projects like the Altri cellulose factory in Palas de Rey pose additional risks due to high water consumption and potential disruption to river ecosystems. Added to this is the issue of forest fires, fueled by rural abandonment and undergrowth accumulation in forests, further weakening the region’s natural balance. This contrast between water abundance and environmental pressures highlights the fragility of Galicia’s ecosystems.

The town of Aceredo, which emerged after 30 years buried under the waters of the Lindoso reservoir, stands as a stark reminder of the effects of climate change and the destructive impact of human actions on the natural environment. This village, frozen in time beneath the reservoir’s waters, evokes the abundance of life that once thrived there, where the mountains and the river provided its inhabitants with everything they needed for their daily lives. After the reservoir levels dropped, many former residents, like Domingo Fontán, returned to witness what was once their home. However, some, like Fontán, admit they wish the water had never receded, as seeing the village of their childhood again only reopens wounds whose pain becomes unbearable.

“Son de Aldea” (I am from the village) is a traditional festival held in 2023 in Curbián, a village in the Galician countryside. This celebration honors rural life, preserving ancient traditions such as popular games, manual crafts, playing ancestral instruments, and old customs related to fieldwork. For two days, the villagers dress in period clothing and live as if they were in the past century. In 2023, the festival’s theme was “farewell,” a deeply meaningful topic in Galicia due to its long-standing issue of emigration. In the photo, three children can be seen in the forest, dressed in traditional Galician costumes evoking nostalgia for a rural world that has seen generations leave in search of a better future.

The sun hides behind a cloud over the Limia Valley, as seen from Atás, on the day of my grandmother María’s passing. For me, this moment symbolized a profound connection between life and death, where the mystical and the human intertwine, and the weight of forced separations becomes evident. María spent much of her life as an emigrant, leaving her only son (my father) behind in Galicia. Years later, upon her return, her son passed away, a victim of severe alcoholism—a recurring issue in rural Galicia driven by solitude and a lack of opportunities.

Galicia is a land with a deep religious and mystical tradition. One of the best-known legends of Galicia is A Santa Compaña, which is a procession of dead souls in torment that wanders through the villages and forests during the night. These spirits, whose identities are hidden under hoods, follow their guide in silence carrying a cross and a lit candle. According to the legend, if you meet the Santa Compaña, you must not look at it until you reach a 'Cruceiro', because if you look at it, you will become a wandering soul and will walk with the Santa Compaña for the rest of time. The Cruceiros are raised at crossroads or near hermitages, churches, and cemeteries, and, according to legend, their presence will protect you from the Santa Compaña. These religious monuments consist of a cross, generally made of granite stone, and are a sign of identity of the landscape and an expression of popular Galician religious devotion. It is estimated that there are about 12,000 Cruceiros throughout Galicia. According to Castelao, the most important Galician thinker, a Cruceiro is "a pardon from heaven", since according to this Galician writer, Cruceiros are erected to obtain forgiveness for some sin.

Maria was born in 1929 and had her only son, Emilio, when she was 26 years old. The poverty of her home area and the lack of opportunities led Maria to emigrate to Hanover, Germany, leaving Emilio in his village. She believed that working abroad would provide him with the financial stability he needed to live comfortably. Emilio was raised in the home of his uncles, who were alcoholics. This environment eventually led Emilio to develop alcoholism as well. Emilio started his own family, but his struggles with alcohol never ceased, ultimately leading to his death at 56 years old, shortly after Maria permanently returned from Germany. Maria separated from her son, thinking she was giving him the best by working abroad, yet her decision made him feel like an abandoned child. Emilio grew up feeling lost in the world, believing that his parents had abandoned him because they did not love him, and he was further stigmatized for being the product of a premarital conception. When Maria finally returned to enjoy her time with her son, he passed away due to his alcoholism.

During the main years of Galician emigration, that is, the 70s, 80s, and 90s, many of the emigrants who earned good sums of money abroad decided to build large houses in Galicia, hoping to have a good place to live one day when they returned from emigration. Many of the houses built remained empty forever, either because their owners died before returning from emigration or because they finally never returned. In the image, it can be seen the passage of time and neglect on a damp wall in a room of a house built during the times of emigration, which is now practically abandoned. On the wall hangs a portrait of the parents of the owners of the house, Claudina and Antonio, who never lived in that room.

Twins Adolf and Raul came from Barcelona to live in a house in Barcela, an abandoned village in the Galician forest, at the foot of the Grandas de Salime reservoir. They live without electricity or running water in an occupied house. Locals accused them of intending to live there to gain economic benefits from the communal land, sparking significant disputes between them and the neighbors. One night, some neighbors attempted to set fire to Adolfo and Raúl's house while they were inside. To this day, Adolfo and Raúl are marginalized from the rest of the area, so they have spent almost 5 years without practically leaving their home and speaking almost with nobody.

The 'matanza do porco' is an ingrained tradition in Galicia, where rural families used to slaughter pigs to obtain essential meat products. This deeply rooted tradition in Galicia was essential for survival, especially in remote rural areas and the depths of the Galician countryside. Although historically a vital subsistence practice, it is currently prohibited due to health and animal welfare regulations. This process not only provided food for the entire year but also served as a social event that brought the community together. Despite its prohibition, some locals still maintain the practice in a more limited and clandestine manner, thus preserving a part of Galicia's rich cultural heritage.

Teixo is a young guy of just 20 years. He grew up in the mountains of Negueira de Muñiz, in a house without electricity or running water. Teixo’s father works shearing goats and sheep, and since he was little, Teixo never showed much interest in studying. That’s why, as soon as he turned 15, he started shearing goats alongside his father. Now, at 20 years old, he is certain that his work will always be shearing goats. Although it is a very tough job, Teixo enjoys it because it helps him maintain a connection with the animals and strengthens his bond with the land and nature, a bond he’s had since childhood.

Dualisms are still very present in Galicia. While the winters are very cold and rainy, the summers are so hot that, for example, Orense, a city in Galicia, always breaks the heat record in Spain. A volcanic subsoil causes temperatures to reach more than 40 degrees Celsius during the summer, while in the winter, it is normal to reach -10. The abundant rainfall and heat mean that Galicia has abundant vegetation, which, when summer comes, dries out and is very conducive to the spread of large forest fires.

As night falls, a door in a house from the submerged village of A Reloeira, once a vibrant paradise of life and greenery, now appears lifeless. This area has long been neglected by central authorities and affected by poverty, unemployment, helplessness, alcoholism, and emigration driven by a lack of economic resources. The people who lived in A Reloeira had to emigrate. But in Galicia, migration has not been a problem exclusive to A Reloeira. Although there is no consensus on the exact number of Galician emigrants, everything indicates that, in the middle of the last century, there were close to 1.2 million. Taking into account that in that period, the average population of Galicia was 2 million, the figure becomes quite important.

Guillermina, who comes from a family from the city of Lugo, one day in her youth decided to break away from her city and move to live in the mountains of Vilauxín, an abandoned village that can only be reached by walking for more than half an hour after another 2 hours by car. Guillermina lived her youth in these mountains in a “hippie commune”, raising 4 sons and daughters by 3 different men, whom she gave birth to in her own home, without a doctor or hospital facilities. Guillermina currently lives in Escanlar, one of the most remote villages in the Galician mountains, where the road ends and is cut off for periods of the year because snowfall or heavy rain ruins the roads. She spends her days cutting wood, preparing the garden, and walking through the woods. Two of her children have moved to the city, while two others live in villages nearby.

A Reloeira was a small Galician village submerged under the waters of the Lindoso Reservoir. This reservoir, inaugurated in 1992 on the Limia River, was part of a hydroelectric project between Spain and Portugal. Its construction led to the expropriation and displacement of several villages, uprooting rural communities that depended on agriculture, livestock, and fishing for survival. The loss of these villages was not just physical but cultural and emotional, leaving a void in the region’s social fabric. Reloeira’s disappearance raises questions about sacrifices imposed on rural areas in the name of development. It reflects Galicia’s history of modernization policies that prioritize short-term economic gains over preserving its human and cultural heritage. Among the ruins, the remains of a nearly wrecked bridge evoke the Christian idea of the “Bridge to Hell,” a metaphorical path separating life from death and symbolizing choices leading to disastrous consequences. Galicia, a land of mysticism and folklore, is deeply tied to legends of witches, spirits, and sacred rituals, blending pagan traditions with Christian spirituality. This intersection of mysticism and religion shapes the Galician identity, deeply rooted in ancestral narratives and spiritual symbolism.

Beliefs in the supernatural intertwine with the everyday reality of rural life on the border between Galicia and Portugal. The celebration of Montalegre's 'Sesta 13,' with its myths and legends, delves into the ancestral roots of witches and monsters in rural Galicia. This place is imbued with stories that weave into the rich Galician mythology, where witches conducted rituals and mysterious creatures were said to inhabit the shadows. The connection with concepts of life after death manifests in the atmosphere of this celebration, suggesting the idea of a threshold between the world of the living and the realm of the unknown. Rural Galicia, with its solitary landscapes and dense forests, becomes a fitting backdrop for these narratives that explore the boundaries between life and death.