OLATUA²

A summer in the Basque Country. 

July-August, bare feet in the sand, the smell of wax and sun cream, fingertips crumpled by salt water. Olatua bears the naivety of an adolescence punctuated by impatience for the next summer. That of the prisoners of this wonderful place where others come on vacation but never stay. Olatua is a concentrate of suspended memories. Memories of a brief but unforgettable history. Those of a wave of overwhelming euphoria that recedes in September, as if nothing had ever happened. It sticks to the skin, its wake persists. And yet, it's time to turn the page. If the candor fades with the passing summers, Olatua allows us not to forget, to be recalled by the wave.