I do not need close eyes to see. He lived in front of the house and, from time to time, I saw him pass. Most High, thin, dark, curly black hair, I looked like a character in Lorca:
"... Camborio a stiff mane, dark green moon, manly voice ... and this pink skin kneaded with olive and jasmine"
said in an interview in a simple, did not understand his success, he could not sing. It was much more than that, expressing a deep and tender voice the noblest sentiments of the soul.
over ten years ago that was, but I keep seeing him leave his house, while still very young and made a living as she could. Today, in this gray and rainy morning, I hear his songs that bring back memories of Granada, from my home, my family and the streets and squares of my city, if it is beautiful in itself, his voice becomes a luxury for the senses.
goes for you, dear Carlos Cano
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