THE NORTH RIDING PROJECT

The duende is not a force, not a labour, a struggle, not a thought… (it) is not in the throat; the duende surges up, inside, from the soles of the feet…it changes a girl, by magic power, into a lunar paralytic, or covers the cheeks of a broken old man, begging for alms in the wine shops, with adolescent blushes: gives a woman’s hair the odour of a midnight sea port.

Lorca/Duende