Chorrojumo’s body in ruins has been wandering silently through the streets of Granada for one hundred and eighty-three years. Under the scorching sun, he waits, with his hand raised, for some currency. The infinite limbo in which he lives is interrupted with the arrival of a young Moroccan who brings an ancient key in his hands. Together they begin a search through the Ruins, spaces that have disappeared or are in transition, of present-day Granada, in search of the house of the young man’s ancestors; the last expelled Moriscos, of whom he still retains memories.
