Catamarca* is the moon.
And above that field moon land, an animal sleeps, men dream.
Sweets, volcano, pailas**,  stones, adobe, gaznate***, quince, progress.
When the afternoon arrives, son and ground hurt, his Owner bet his pride.
Instinct duels that mark his destiny begin.
Catamarca's landscape is a compendium of fantasies, realities and pre concepts.
A strange memory of that land, of that joy and the inhabitants' passions.
At the end, you can hear a chalchalero**** practicing his song...


* Argentinian province
**  pot made of copper
*** sweet bread
**** bird native to Catamarca