In a spa surrounded by mountains of salt, guests relax and sunbathe, while workers collect the glowing crystals under the sun. Children run off, escaping the watchful eyes of adults, and a woman drifts through this landscape in a haze, detached from reality. As night falls, the space transforms, shaped by the desires of those who pass through.
In a spa, there is space to savour languor, for bodies to stretch, to immerse themselves, to settle into floating baths. There is a slow movement, spreading through the air; the scattered voices of guests drift away, whilst the light reflects off the chalk-white walls and the shadows cast figures and sounds. A child wanders off, a body withdraws, and the night, laden with mystery, weaves an atmosphere of whispers and desires. By day there is light and labour once more, there is abandonment and bodies moulding themselves to the mountains of salt where they gather. Here, weight seems to float enigmatically, and the salt crystals cast an intense, magnetic glow. (Carlota Gonçalves)
