“A few years back, I was walking in Granada with Manuel de Falla. He was talking about the degeneration of our old songs when, just as he was complaining, a pure old song came out of a window. We peered in and through the green blinds we saw a white, aseptic room without a single picture, just like a machine for living in by the architect Corbusier.”
—Federico García Lorca, ‘Arquitectura del cante jondo’ (circa 1932)