tango appetite, almost post-pandemic
like most of the world, I barely danced in the last year and a half. I spent months where i didn’t think about tango, didn’t miss it, felt relief that my addiction to the embrace was not all-consuming as I thought. this meant new possibilities: I could live in a remote seaside village and not suffer from a lack of tango. (which is, more or less, what I did) what a relief.
but now the world is opening up again, I went dancing in warsaw — my first time dancing with strangers, nearly post-pandemic - and it was like scratching an itch, only to make it more itchy. tango in warsaw is: all wind, no storm. I came hungry. I left hungry. this is the thing with tango. a drug with no possibility of rehab — except the drug itself. like love. like any kind of addiction. except, maybe, the passage of time. the act of forgetting.
tango is such a distilled and direct portal to my deepest self — I can’t imagine a world where I stop dancing entirely. there is, most definitely, more to life than tango. but what I seek in the dance is what I seek in all acts of creation — a mirror of everything I do here, on this website. a tunnel to myself.
related: visit my tango room