Every year, you are my lost love

Love is fertile ground for confusion, misfortune, and obscurity. In that vast, deadly space, some clear stories are cut short before they can take root, others are denied a dignified ending, and still others tend to defy categorization. Betrayed lovers swallow their bitterness helplessly. In that space, too, there is the matter of timing. There is an expiration date for the buds of love; they either blossom in their time or are ravaged by time, leaving no water capable of reviving them. This is the story of Nada, a woman lost between two ages, two loves, two eras, and the story of the storms that buffet her, tearing her apart between a past that refuses to fade and a desperate struggle against the temptation of betrayal. Love is fertile ground for confusion, misunderstanding, and ambiguity. In that treacherous gray area, some stories are cut short before they can establish themselves, while others are denied a dignified conclusion. Emotions remain trapped, defying easy categorization, while abandoned lovers are forced to taste the bitterness of their helplessness. This realm is also governed by the element of unpredictable timing, as if the delicate buds of love have a predetermined expiration date. They either blossom in their appointed season, or time turns against them, and the earth's waters fail to revive them. This is the story of Nada, a woman caught between two eras, two loves, two moments in time, a tale of storms that batter her, tearing her apart as she grapples with an unfinished past and a present that steadfastly resists the temptation of betrayal.