The cries of Ole resound in the small room. The lights are dim but bright enough to shine on sheen of sweat on the faces and bodies of the dancers.
Suddenly a deep baritone growls out notes to a song you don’t understand but can feel all the way down to your toes.
The thudding off the heels, the snapping of the fingers and the flinging of the fringed shawl in a frenzy is enough to create a tempo that you are moving along to; even without knowing.
The sangria is forgotten, the fatigue of the day is parked for a while…and you just watch the fury that is the flamenco!