For a long while I was pulled by the vast empty landscape of El Maestrat, the mountains that stretch across the province of Castellón. The echoes of the moors responded at every twist and turn of the mountain roads, etched in the ubiquitous dry stone walling of their slopes. These were built painstakingly by hand over centuries and have left a magnificent legacy which has transformed much of the hinterland, here and elsewhere in Spain, into picturesque terraces of almond and olive trees.
Eventually I bought a finca (farm basically) and so started to learn more about El Maestrat. It has changed a lot since then and in some ways I yearn for it the way it was. It is for this reason that I am documenting as much as I can around me. Before the region adapts to the music of the modern world, and before all that is left is photos of the past and realities of the present.