He doesn’t need to sing. His fingers do it for him. Captured in mid-strum, tocaor José Franco radiates something far more profound than musical virtuosity: duende — that elusive spirit of flamenco, born of sorrow, defiance, and joy. His guitar is not just an instrument; it’s a second voice, one that speaks the unspoken, channeling generations of Andalusian lament and celebration. Notice the scene: the blurred silhouettes of fellow musicians in the foreground, the intimacy of a rehearsal or a small performance, where the bond between tocaores is more powerful than any spotlight. The photograph’s depth of field creates a natural hierarchy — we’re drawn not just to Franco’s position, but to his expression. His smile…