The Tango Festival
A few days of living a fantasy tango life,
for me it was a (short) milonga life.
Eat, dance, sleep, dance. Repeat.
Dancing with friends, old and new. Dancing with strangers.
Unfamiliar music, and old favorites.
The fiercest, raciest Pugliese tanda I've ever danced - was that really me?
Hair in my face, breathless, heart racing - flying over, and yet still sinking into, the dance floor . . .
yeah, that was me.
A Hugo Diaz song that seared my heart and made me feel like I was dancing several inches into the ground.
(That feeling of rough, wet soil under your feet, sinking a little,
surrounding your toes, holding you to the earth . . .
that's what Hugo Diaz feels like for me . . . )
Heart-melting vals sets,
Joyful milonga tandas that pushed away every care and worry.
The freedom to dance and dance and dance until I could hardly stand up.
But the world, my non-tango life, marched on.
It knew I would have to come out some time.
Thank you to Dearest, Darlingest Husband, and to Patrick, Mardi, Mark and Marcus, for making it possible for me to participate in Austin's Fandango de Tango. I wouldn't have been able to do it without you all.
And to friends and dancers, near and far, I hope to see you all again at the Austin Spring Tango Festival.