Every table was gone before the doors opened. On the fourteenth of August, La Cueva became a tablao. A dance floor laid over the old stone. White linen, red carnations, candles burning low. Guitars tuning in the corner while the last glasses were poured. Then the first compás, and the room went quiet in that particular way a room goes quiet when everyone realizes at once that something is about to happen. A dancer in red crossed the floor. Three guitars found each other in th