Goizalde Landabaso has created for this book a city called Bränskint, which we can imagine in northern Europe, but could be anywhere else. In fact, all the cities in the world are the same and different. Through the windows of their bars we steadily see hope lost in the streets, pain without wail, desire, and above all, the need for survival. We have given all the worst of humanity to the cement jungle. However, not good at all. The city is a big monster. Nobody takes it as a shelter, but so it is. Do we make the city or the city makes us?
