I am stretched out, on the beach, half reading, half looking around me, catching other stories in passing. A mother emerges from among the beach umbrellas, almost crawling on the sand, struggling to reach the front line, laden with everything. She is accompanied by her twins. It's not entirely clear who is dragging whom. But she lies down, defeated, on the towel, which she hasn't even bothered to straighten when she took it out of the bag. She hasn't taken off her clothes either. And I can see her bikini through her white, Ibizan-style blouse. She's also wearing some denim shorts that she has no intention of taking off. And some black XXL sunglasses, where the expression I'd like to decipher is hidden. The twins don't move much from her side. They lie around her, adoring her, like in a Sorolla painting. They touch her hair, resting their little heads on different parts of their mother's body, also looking at the sea, in silence. After a period of rest, the two girls start to stir and liven up. They put on their swimsuits and go for a swim. The mother shows no sign of movement, let alone concern. The fact that she doesn't feel any unease seeing her six or seven-year-old daughters go to the sea alone makes me think she has already saved them from something much more dangerous. Whatever it is, it has devastated her. I feel like I am witnessing the conclusion of a crusade, as if this moment were the last chapter of a long story, the scene just before the final credits.

For centuries, women were considered 'factories of God's children.' Not having children was frowned upon. For most, the only possible contraceptive method was choosing the days of their menstrual cycle when they didn't ovulate. And this wasn't always calculated accurately. Then they had to think about the moment of childbirth, which took place at home in less than ideal conditions. Catalina Noguera Garí, 85, remembers that experience very well. She greets us sitting near the brazier in her house in Vilafranca de Bonany, intrigued to know what interest her life might hold. Two of her four children, Maria and Miquel, are with her.