Suddenly a barefoot girl was dancing. No one saw her begin; they only saw her somehow appear in the middle of the dirt floor, surrounded by the mahogany faces of spellbound gypsies. She moved in a tortuous way, dancing in the superb manner that the moment demanded, moving only her hands and arms, completely lost in the trance of the charged flamenco atmosphere. The singer sang to her, the guitarist played for her, and she moved toward them, responding with pureness of dance and movement that had the effect of somehow exalting the crowd, while at the same time intensifying their desolation. They had reached the culmination, flamenco's perfect moment, when all of flamenco's components were combined in a rare purity of expression....we were all quiet a moment, completely entranced, a little ashamed of our raw emotions, and yet savouring the impact of the experience that we knew would rarely be repeated. Further performing was meaningless. 'Ya estaba todo dicho'. Everything had been said.