¿When did I become such a picky #@$%? More and more often I find myself starting to watch a tango clip and seeing from the first moment that it will be no good, waiting through an excruciating minute, and then saying, “I just can't watch this another second.” I decided to inspect an old favourite clip I hadn't watched in a long time. The results were disastrous.

Here it is. When I was a Muggle and when I was a total-teeny-baby tanguerita-nena, I thought this was just the Cat's Meow tango-wise. Ooohh, así se baila! It looked like fluid oozy magic to me. The dancers were sorcerers who spellbound me.

And now...from the beginning, I thought, “ugh, look at her. She's not screwing the ground.” You can always tell. Here was a woman who was putting her foot on the floor. I wanted to see her reaching with her entire body's energy a million miles deep into the energetic centre of the earth, in a passionate and melting French kiss, and I wanted to see her body's energy welcome the kiss that the earth's energy gave back to her. The dance was over before it began.

And connection? They look like they're performing for the camera. I realized the camera's choreography, the editing, and the dance choreography were doing the job of the connection, instead of any real feeling.

I still love the shoes.

I remember thinking, “oh, those people are different from me. I will never be able to do that in a million years. That's magic.” And now I realize: I was completely right! I will never be able to do that in a million years, because that's stage magic.

But I've already felt moments far greater than my own technical capabilities pass through me, even though I am just a milonguerita-nena. Moments of real magic. And now I don't care that I'll never be she, because I'm somebody better: I am myself.

Assassin's Tango

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