Belonging

I love to watch a dance floor move. Like a coreographed piece of artwork without the rehersal. The images of tango evoke a sense of belonging. We form bonds, often with people we don't know; dance as couples with complete strangers.


We search for a place of belonging, of acceptance. And in the embrace, we find it.
Place your head just here at his neck, hold his hand just so, relax the knees and go.

A friend thinks in my trip to Buenos Aires, that I will find it difficult watching the dancing and not participating. But I love to watch. I learn by watching, and the patterns are like visual art.



I look forward to forming new bonds, both the visual ones when I watch dancing I can't even begin to imagine. And the bonds of placing my head just so, holding a hand just so, feeling the pressure on my back just so.

And go.