The solitude of Santoalla do Monte

Santoalla do Monte lies at an altitude of 945 meters, nestled between green hills. Forests as far as the eye can see. A narrow road leads up to the small village, winding its way up the dark green slopes. Santoalla is just a collection of ruins, a single balcony glows turquoise, as if it had been freshly painted. It belongs to Margo Pool’s house, whitewashed stone with a corrugated iron roof. Herbs grow in plastic flower boxes and “Welcome” is written on a wooden sign above the large panoramic window.

“Every now and then I hear a crash.”says Pool as she walks past the ruins to her house. Whenever another rotten part of one of the surrounding houses gives in to the weather. The isolation of Santoalla do Monte began long before Margo Pool moved to this place. She came here with her husband 26 years ago because she had had enough of people. Since Martin, her husband, disappeared and the neighboring family later had to leave the village, Margo Pool has been the only resident of Santoalla do Monte.