Dear teacher:
I know this moment had to come someday, that everything has a beginning and an end, but I wasn't ready. Especially seeing you always with that innate energy that impressed us all and that you spread to everyone.
The news of your departure has plunged me into a strange silence, a new silence, like the one that precedes greatness. cantes. And it is precisely this silence—so full of memory—that inspires me to write these lines to you today. Sometimes you don't realize how much someone has touched you until the silence arrives. And now that you're gone, everything is filled with memories of you.
In the coming days and months, countless words from skilled and expert writers will be written about your life and artistic work. They will recount your incredible life journey, forged through a constant struggle to overcome unimaginable adversity, and your majestic musical legacy. In these pages, I will do so from my perspective as an enthusiast and educator, from the viewpoint of a simple schoolteacher who dared to transform your life into a story to share the power of art. flamenco to the youngest ones. Because your life and your art have become a top-level educational tool. And I write with a knot in my chest that I can't explain. I find it hard to accept that you're gone. I find it hard to imagine the flamenco without you. And I find it especially difficult to put into words what you have meant in my life.
I was incredibly lucky to share moments with you that I never imagined. On several occasions, you presented my book with me as if you were an enthusiastic young man, when it was you who honored me simply by sitting next to me. I heard you praise my work with children, and I can confess now: few things in my life have moved me as much as hearing you Phosphorite You said that what I did at school was "top-notch." You said it with that mix of tenderness and wisdom of yours that made it impossible not to believe you.
How could I forget that October morning when I delivered the first copies to your home in Málaga? I confess that I was incredibly restless during the journey from Puente-Genil. Who was I to show up at the home of a universal musical genius with a story? pa children?I kept wondering. But the unease lasted only a moment, the time it took you to glance at the book. What excitement, emotion, and satisfaction shone in your eyes as you turned the pages! And I pinched myself and said, "Get lost, Álvaro!"
You've been by my side these past two years. When I was writing, when I was preparing a class, when I was recording a podcast… you were always there reminding me that the flamenco It is above all a responsibility: to transmit it with respect, with truth and without losing sight of the beauty that sustains it.
Throughout all this time, every time I entered a classroom, you came with me. I've told my students about you like one tells a story A true story filled with courage, talent, effort, and humanityAnd I saw something in their eyes that I will never forget: genuine admiration. Because children recognize the truth without anyone explaining it to them.
Your canteYes, your experiences, your story… were the driving force that moved those children to tears. I saw a seven-year-old boy stand as still as a statue while your voice played. I saw others laugh, be amazed, applaud, ask questions, be moved… You always stirred something. Always. Because the truth stirs something, teacher. And in you, everything was true.
"Puente-Genil mourns you today, but also celebrates you. Because not every town is lucky enough to produce a figure who embodies an entire century of flamencoAnd because your life was, without a doubt, one of the best gifts that our land has given to universal culture."
I don't know if I ever told you what I've learned. Not just from cantebut of humanity. You taught without intending to: with the way you looked at things, the way you listened, and the way you were. Always polite. Always attentive.
But teacher, if there's one image I'll treasure for the rest of my life, it's that of that day you came to my school to celebrate the Day of Flamenco. Surrounded by dozens of children who gazed at you with wide eyes, as if they were looking at a character from a storybook who had come to life. That sea of small hands asking for an autograph, that spontaneous respect, that overflowing joy… I never saw you so happy, so loved, so alive. You knew that in that courtyard, amidst laughter and trembling papers waiting for an autograph, your art was being passed on to the next generation. And I, as I watched you, understood that that moment justified an entire life dedicated to… flamenco. That was no ordinary tribute; it was an act of love from a people to their most illustrious son. And I had the privilege of witnessing it with you, almost in the front row of the heart.
Teacher, you have been one of the greatest gifts that flamenco and they have given me life. And I saw how my own children admired you without me saying a word. They loved you like you love someone in your own family. I think they sensed what you were: a good man, one of those rare men. Your wife, too, always so attentive, so close, gave my family and me an affection that couldn't be faked.
It's so hard for me to say goodbye, teacher. It's so hard to accept that you won't be on the other end of the phone anymore, or in the front row of a presentation, or in the vivid memory of a recent conversation. Your last WhatsApp message was the day before you left with the Terrible One. I sent you the video of my little student. Ramon interpreting one of your canteAnd you replied: “What joy, congratulations, there is the fruit of your labor. A big hug.” But I want you to know that you haven't left completely. You can't leave. Because you are in every child who hums a drone song without knowing they are touching a miracle. In every class where your name appears and a beautiful silence falls. In every person who discovers the flamenco through your voice. And also —deep inside— in me.
Thank you, Fosforito. Thank you for your art, yes. But thank you above all for your heart. For showering me with affection. For always treating me with respect and tenderness. For making me feel, in some way, like I belonged in your home. You, who had lived so much, who had achieved everything, who were already a part of history, looked at me as if I were someone. That, teacher, I can never repay you for.
Puente-Genil mourns you today, but also celebrates you. Because not every town is lucky enough to produce a figure who embodies an entire century of flamencoAnd because your life was, without a doubt, one of the best gifts that our land has given to universal culture.
Rest in peace, maestro. Your voice will be eternal. So will your example. And as long as I'm a teacher, you'll keep coming into the classroom with me every morning.
The singer is gone, but the master remains. His voice fades, but the echo lingers. The man departs, but the legend begins.
Thank you, Fosforito. For your art. For your example. For your affection. And for letting me, even if only for a little while, be a part of your story. Your echo will be eternal, in Puente Genil and in the flamenco.
With all my affection,
Álvaro
→ Drone from Puente Genil, played by Ramón, a student at the CEIP José María Pemán school in Puente-Genil:
Letter to Fosforito from a student of the CEIP José María Pemán school in Puente-Genil:
