“There are two secrets to being a great tango dancer. The first is having a hole in yourself that you cannot fill, and the second is the luck to fall upon tango as the thing you try to fill it with.” Jaimes Friedgen
Hmm, you said it Jaimes. Just back from a Friday night milonga. Now sitting here with a glass of wine (Buenos Aires Shiraz/Malbec, as it happens) and those post-tango thoughts. But probably not good to write at such times? Self-indulgent musings, like red-wine poems, usually end in the bin. Deservedly so. Though perhaps they anchor something for insufficient moments.
Ah what dance we ache for, to the sensed music of a loving silence. Heard when ‘my words/sometimes grow thin/as the tracks of gulls on the beaches.’ (Neruda.)
There is a melancholy to the music, but a kind of fierce joy too, which perhaps appeals to those who have lived a little, and felt what they’ve lived.
Time for another quote?
“I am what I am and that’s all that I am.” Popeye
Good night, sweet dreams.