Right at the intersection of Divino Pastor and Monteleón, in the heart of lively Malasaña, there is a sign that reads ‘Guitarra Ángel Benito Aguado’. If we are lucky enough to find the blinds up, we can see luthier Yunah Park inside, working with silent dedication.

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"A mi madre, que siempre me ayudó para ser pintor".

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Es un soleado domingo de invierno y, como todos los fines de semana, la gente aprovecha para caminar tranquilamente por el Paseo del Prado. Justo frente al museo, varios artistas locales instalan sus puestos para exhibir y vender sus obras. Entre ellos se encuentra Antonio Castor, ya preparado para otra jornada de trabajo. Vistiendo un saco bordó y acompañado de decenas de sus pinturas, observa expectante el pasar de los transeúntes.

It’s a cloudy and chilly March Saturday in the Valley of Fornela. There are no customers in the bar of the local albergue, only a man called León sitting quietly by the fireplace. “In winter, there are only four of us”, he says while he waits for his café con leche to cool down. He is one of the few remaining residents of Peranzanes, the capital of the valley. All four of his daughters, as most of the youth and adult population, have migrated to urban hubs in search for better opportunities.