A horse dies: goodbye to Miguel Camacho

The fans of Seville and flamenco are in mourning. friendship too. A horse dies. Black crepes shine on the shutters of all the rocks for which he has left his indelible mark. Andalusian to the core, man of firm and loyal convictions, radical in the best sense of the word, was linked to the ethical commitment that puts principles first until the last breath. Tireless fighter for rights, He had a nursery of ideas boiling in the attics of his brain.. And with effort you gave them the tools so that they could move forward.. How many will have been left in diapers?!

You were the friendly face, the smile that many of us who were somewhat younger saw on the stage of the Peña Flamenca Torres Macarena sharing your presentations with a golden beak. And lots of flamenco. Defender of criticism, I bring the young people closer, fair with the veterans… inveterate fan, tireless worker, celestino, creator of flamenco clubs and entities, this or that way. That there is no headquarters? Well, in a hut and we take it to the street. Here there is a group of sensitive people and that neighborhood is orphaned of corners for the pinch. There he encouraged the duende to gather a handful of new and old fans of this sweet poison that we have shared until your departure..

Not even the damn illness prostrated you in bed and, crawling, from the hand of your inseparable wife and beloved Well, who looked with his camera at your words telling the majesty of art, in a The Bambera, a Flamenco Aires, a He Carbonerillo the a Torres Macerena, to name a few where we enjoyed your presence the most, to rub the last harsh blows on your chest to relieve the soul.

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