Benicàssim is a place where time moves slowly, where light acts as a softener of the passing of the days, and fragments of who I was, and who I am rest under the coat of trees and waves. All of it stays here, unmoved, waiting for my return. Every familiar sound tells a story, and today, we’re walking through the map of my childhood memories, one sound at a time.
This is where our story begins, my home.
We would spend endless afternoons here.
The summers were warm and humid, and this beach was the place that we would come to for some breeze …
This is the place where “Benicenses families” would gather on the weekends.
All these sounds compose the score of my childhood, and I suppose every corner of Benicàssim holds a…
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