The Jewel of Sevilla

Passion. Lust. Love. Ever since the first time that tantalizing music, the peerless sound of purest, most heartfelt expression made its way to Karenina’s ears, she has felt mesmerized. Magic, which she previously associated with professional charlatans who would take advantage of gullible, naive spectators and whose pockets they would so conveniently lighten, proved to be a real concept — how else could one explain the unparalleled, mighty feelings emanating from deep within her soul as she heard those tunes?

“I am under a spell — I have been put under a spell. This music, this sound…it is…more”, she whispered silently to herself, the shade of her feminine frame projected onto the wall under the faintest of red -spectrum lights. On a night in Sevilla, which should have proportioned a mouthwatering attraction to aficionados of flamenco, with performers accomplishing an unprecedented orchestra of meticulousness, spirit and ardor in their expressive homage to the greatest artists of the genre’s history, all eyes were not aimed at the stage. Instead, they vigorously contemplated the contour of the most fascinating presence there: Karenina’s magnificence — her elegant curves, her fiery red dress, the unequaled consolidation of chiseled bones with glossy, even skin.

Yet, the trait that really kept their gazes fixated on her, unwavering in their resolve to stare despite the obviousness of…