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I thought as I walked today, when I hear that song just when the memories are nostalgic.

I miss he, my beloved tango.

I miss him as a lover's body with which it merges with closed eyes, I miss it like a hand resting flat on the cheek, as an arm that you put on your life.

In quiet moments, when the house is quiet, I wear my shoes, timidly daring complicit in a thousand steps, and dance. Dance alone. Or embrace a jealous thought, whimsical, sad, elated.

noise of heels on the floor and the scent of intense emotions. Lips colored red and white feet. You, so languid and fierce.

eyes open and then closed or a little and a little bit.

"The tango is a sad thought that is danced"

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