Last night I saw live flamenco.
Almost unknowingly, I have carried it with me since my childhood in rural Australia.
My grandmother returned from an overseas trip with a gift from Spain – an ersatz tortoise-shell comb to add drama to one’s hair. It features a delicate painting of a pair of flamenco dancers. Their tiny, slender bodies emanate grace and drama. (As a child I couldn’t see the passion.) Continue reading
The World is My Cuttlefish 