Leaving everything was the last and painful choice of those who no longer had sustenance or education for their children, nor anyone who blessed their fields with their work... Yet in these abandoned villages you always have a glimpse of someone working on the terraces or watching you from a window. Houses breathe, the cracks whistle announcing an impending demolition, a gust of wind brings you someone’s whispers. The houses are ‘time capsules’, containers of old furniture, clothes, tools and family memories. It is hard to believe it, but there is not a soul left..., or is there? Yes, there are some. In these abandoned villages there are presences trapped in their homes, clinging to their roots and their land... And some have chosen to tell us who they were in their day and why they remained anchored there.