You’re Not Going to Find the Meaning of Life Inside a Computer Screen. For the Love of God, Go Experience Something — NOW
Or what watching flamenco three times in three days has done to my soul
The first time you have sex has nothing over the first time you experience Flamenco, as I discovered back in 2015 when I popped my F-cherry.
This week, my parents-in-law joined my husband and me in Jerez in southern Spain. I’m here for a month to reconnect, recharge and work on some health-based issues (my parents-in-law — God love ‘em — are thankfully only here for a few days).
This is deepest Andalucia where Flamenco is everywhere. You can’t go down the street without hearing clapping or singing (or usually both).
We took my parents-in-law to see Flamenco at a tiny crowded bar. I saw them go from “ah it’ll be nice to see a bit of dancing and singing” to “WHAT THE FUCK DID I JUST WITNESS AND WHY AM I CRYING SO HARD” in the space of an hour.
They loved it so much that they asked to return three times.
Three times this week I’ve had my soul sucked out of my eyes and ears which I willingly offered to the performers. Three times I experienced Duende, that Flamenco-specific feeling of power…
