When the cantaor sings, he is celebrating a solemn rite. He rouses ancient essences from their sleep, wraps them in his voice, and flings them into the wind. He has a deeply religious sense of song. Through this song the race releases its pain and its true history. They are simple mediums, the lyrical crest feathers of our people. They are strange but simple folk who sing hallucinated by a brilliant point of light trembling on the horizon.
Federico Garcia Lorca/Flamenco Poet