Darkness. A man on center stage, four women dancers on each side. Man shouts out. Lights flash on stage. Audience stares at his face, twisted in agony and tension as he sings with his entire being. Suddenly two guitars enter the background. Everyone on stage dances spectacularly. Clickety-clack. Snappety-snap. Ole. Abada. Ole. The first song and dance ends. Lights out. Stage empties.
A duet of guitarists, playing quickly and skillfully. They keep looking at each other as if they are competing and answering each other with their guitars. Faster, faster. Really goo
d.
A new male singer on stage. Sad song. Love song. Woman sings with her entire being. She’s good. She dances. Man and woman dance. Man seems sad. The woman dumped him apparently. He sings sadly and is dancing alone. It becomes happier as they become reunited and begin to dance together again.
The songs have a 
story to them. It’s like the opera, except for the style of the music. The dresses are gorgeous. The dancers are all experts – every muscle is in the correct position. Confident and dramatic postures. Looks beautiful on stage.
One male dancer is looking straight at me. He sings with extreme intensity, then looks at me for a response. I snap a picture, and he seems pleased.
The final act is a line-up. Each dancer has a solo dance. The couple dances in a romantic way. Suddenly we were all clapping loudly as the central main dancer dances faster and faster and faster. His feet are a blur. The dancing stops, and loud applause thunders the room.
I return to camp and breathe a final “Ole” as I fall asleep.
I wrote this during the flamenco show, which is why it is written in fragments. It suits the mood of the show, which included flashes of color and sound.