Masters
Why is that any tango teacher is called a master?
Eternal Spring In The Broken Heart
To NR. My heart feels so tight today. It needs an outpouring— of grief and joy, of all the things that make it so heavy, so dense. A stampede of emotions, disconnected hues. It just rained here. The sky was dark, and sad. But now—light, breezy, hot and humid. You remember, don’t you, What it feels like in Florida after the heavy rain? I even saw a rainbow today. It made me think of our jokes, our giggles. And we could giggle— still. I feel fortunate that I had the rain, the clouds, the rainbow, and now the sun and a blue sky. For fleeting moments, yes— but still. I have the memory of them, at least for now. And Flamenco is playing, saying softly: te quiero. It resonates almost like the sound of almonds as spoken by you— in the whispering escaping from your lips, unsolicited eroticism and yet welcomed. In the same way, I feel fortunate to have experienced us. Even if it was only a fraction of time— a Dali clock, melting away. Our time together, shaped by ...
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