One of the aspects I truly miss about tango is my anonymity. I long for it and I don't know how to recapture/regain it. They know me in all the cities. Maybe if I found a milonga on the Moon or Mars... I haven't gone out this week. Maybe I'm thinking they'll forget who I am, but highly doubtful. Most likely I will get chastised for not showing up at this or that milonga. I think I have what the Turks call hüzün. It's a kind of melancholy. I don't know what the Argentines call it. Maybe they would call it being "homesick". I miss the good old days. Walking into the darkened room. Only the music greeting me. Embracing strangers on the dancefloor. And only on the dancefloor. (Don't get me wrong - I love my tango friends - but these days it's an hour and 45 minutes of greeting and hugging before I even make it to the dancefloor and by then my arms are tired.) The milongas, like New York, like the world, gets smaller and smaller the older you get. I suppose I am longing for my youth. And a room where no one knows my name.
3 comments:
I hear you; the world of tango is so small. Everyone in New York will hear about what you did in Moscow, Amsterdam will recognize you from when you were in Buenos Aires. I know only too well.
Ah, it's tough to be famous!
Just as you enjoyed the anonymity, now enjoy your popularity.
Welcome in Sofia. Feel like on the Tango moon. It is only me to know your name here, and promise to keep it secret.
Hi, how are you? It has been a long time since i dropped by. You have many nice write up here. Will come again. Take care. God Bless.
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