Somebody rubbing vigorously a bruised foot must have coined the concept of dancing tango in a crowded subway. Like a capricious Cinderella story, as soon as the bells tolled a dozen times, there he or she was hopelessly looking for an all night spot to continue dancing. And the dream goes on.
Time is a very precious commodity that moves inexorably forward chipping away chunks of our lives that will never be restored. That is perhaps the reason why we tend to preserve memories of the best and worst moments of our life. The more we understand the precarious nature of human existence, the more we’re prone to seek instances of intimacy and avoid meaningless pastimes. La vida pasa y nos vamos poniendo viejos wrote Pablo Milanes. Time passes and we get older, and as we learn more about our finite nature there is a sense of urgency to treasure those time when we felt the best.
Imagine the lazy yawn of the sun stretching its warm blanket over the ocher waters of the River Plate. On the street that never sleeps, a parade of sleepy-eyed young bodies cast exhausted shadows on the sidewalk. Their ears ring and reverberate with the beat of La cumparsita as they file for the coffeehouse to fill their lungs with the scent of freshly ground coffee and relive the experiences of another night of tangos and milongas. Say it is September 21. The day Spring begins in the Southern hemisphere. The dark swallows have returned for another magic date traveling a thousand of miles from Capistrano in California. The fragrance of a thousand blooms is everywhere. On a blue sky without a cloud in sight, the bright sun celebrates the departure of another cold an bitter winter.
Tonight a woman clad in a white dress, her delicate body anticipating the discovery of love, will walk through the doors of the social club. It’s Springtime in Buenos Aires and everywhere life seems to have taken a new twist. A mirror reflects the likeness of a handsome, youthful man. He turns around and his eyes catch the eyes of the flirting butterfly standing by the door. A thousand promises glow from her emerald eyes, promises of a sensual, slender body willing to surrender to the inviting embrace. Don Osvaldo sits ceremoniously at the piano, and his gentle gesture brings the orchestra of virtuosos to life.
The breathtaking notes of RECUERDO suck the air from the room.
Their eyes are locked, her lips part enough to match the sparkle in her eyes. A powerful force keeps his eyes locked into her smile as he walks the way one might enter paradise. The lust exuding from her body scent betrays the perceived innocence of her appearance. Their hearts have begun to pound at the beat of 4×4, their blood rushes as they hold into each other’s arms.
The fragrance of a thousand roses is in the air. The senses are overtaken by the fiery moans of the bandoneon. The agony of ecstasy escapes from the strings of the violins. Joyful times, wonderful images of the young at heart in love. Standing at the top of the universe or dancing in a candlelit living room. She’ll always dress in white, abdicating body and soul at the altar of love. The image from the mirror will always reflect the young man kissing the coquettish springtime butterfly.
Today and every day, Springtime is in their hearts.
