When I first met Chico I was not sure about what is real and what is a dream...

 

Somewhere in the north of Spain, six o'clock in the morning, Asturias!
We were on our way from London to Lisbon and all we wanted was a short break and a coffee, some fresh air from the sea.

We left the Autopista and found a bar high up on the rocks.

Among all those sounds the wind was carrying, I heard music from afar.

We followed that trace, down to the beach.

Their was a band playin, people were dancin or just listening on the terrace, early rays of sun glancing in the waves of the Mar Cantabrico.      

They were weaving sounds and riddims, no beginning, no end.

I got myself a drink, white wine, Rueda - what a sweet suicide after 6 hours

of driving through the night.

 

Who is that guy on guitar, I asked the barkeeper.

- We call him Chico. Chico Azul.

- Azul? Blue? Porque?

- Mira los ojos.

- Oh yeah... Chico Blue
 

We got lost in music.

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