The time had arrived when moods were mellow, and bodies and throats wine-warmed and flexible. Diego began strumming a slow, melancholy seguiriyas. Mairena, infected with the duende of Diego's playing, started singing this despairing rhythm amid absolute stillness. He sang beautifully and with great emotion, finishing on a note of tragedy pervading the room with a quieting depression. La Fernanda was shamelessly weeping. The guitar sounded again, this time the sluggish, persistent call of the soleares. Juan Talega began singing and despondency deepened. He sang interminably, in ancient ways that are nearly forgotten, slowly, methodically...
D.E. Pohren/Author
www.MatadoraFlamenca.com
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