The King of Ganchos; Born free

In Buenos Aires, tango styles are both as varied to the palate and as plentiful as the various courses of the traditional asado (barbeque); for those accustomed to ‘nose to tail’ dining, the full palate may be gratifying yet for those unaccustomed to consuming offal, they are not. To say the least, it is an overwhelming prospect for the aspiring tango dancer to find a style and teacher to suit them in the time the dancer has to enjoy and immerse themselves in the dance form at its source and height of availability. Tango is a passionate dance and fast becomes a lifestyle for those who take it up, some will learn Castellano, take up an interest in Argentinian wines or history, others will engage in learning about tango music or choose world class dancers via the all-powerful YouTube to observe and approximate their own style from. My partner and I were the kind of avid tango dancers that took up all those options and more. We travelled to Buenos Aires for the sole purpose of immersing ourselves in the tango culture at its source. Luckily for us within the first few weeks of our six-month trip in 2012, we discovered a veritable chocolate sampler box of Argentine tango to help us on our way.

Pulpo asado

El Pulpo, third from left, at a personal asado

Having already been well schooled by the many tango dancers and teachers that had taken the pilgrimage before us, we knew that to discover which milongas (social dance gatherings) are running and gather the general timetable of the multitude of tango events available in the city, we should gather the newest copies of the free tango magazines that are published city wide. From there, social media networks needed to be established as the magazines printed timetables of milonga and practicá (guided practice) but not necessarily who would be teaching the classes traditionally run at the milonga prior to the milonga proper or which orquesta tÍpica will be playing where. Fortuitously for us, El Tanguata magazine was celebrating a significant publication birthday and was hosting a free two-day festival ‘inspiracion’ inclusive of short workshops with a plethora of famous and infamous tango dancers. Apart from the ridiculous difficulty of locating the venue and that we turned up on time to discover that time runs differently in Argentina, we waited literally hours before anything actually happened, this event set us up beautifully for engaging in a relaxed manner with many of our dance idols and discovering new ones. There were four significant highlights: Mariano ‘Chicho’ Frumboli and Juana Sepulvelda dancing live to Ruben Juarez’s Prologo Para Mi Argentina (which can be seen here), dancing with tango legend Juan Carlos Copes, the unbelievably talented tango comedians Eduardo Cappusse and Mariana Flores plus encountering the infamous Norberto ‘El Pulpo’ Esbrez (1966-2014).

 

El Pulpo, or Pulpo as he preferred, being quick to affirm that only his mother called him Norberto, was one of the most inimitable tango dancers in the history of tango. Even distinguishing between nuevo, or new tango, and the more traditional milonguero styles, Pulpo’s nuevo style was utterly unique. Here was a tango dancer who earned the nickname ‘The Octopus’ for his languid movements and specific leg entrapment style, renowned for dancing to non-traditional music with a glass of red wine or cigarette in one hand, see this link for an example of El Pulpo dancing to an orchestra playing a cover of Nirvana’s ‘Smells Like Teen Spirit’. My partner, had introduced me to El Pulpo’s style which he felt was impossible to imitate successfully without learning directly from the maestro himself, and there we were attending an event where we could have a lesson with El Pulpo face to face for free! It quickly became apparently that Pulpo was perhaps a little down on his luck, as we gathered for our lesson excited and more than a little intimidated we soon realised that there were only a few others joining the workshop. Optimists as we are this appeared very favourable for us but there was something in the way Pulpo reacted that demonstrated the disappointment known only by those that have previously known great success. Throughout the lesson Pulpo was patient, engaging, kind and enigmatic. His style, for me, was the equivalent of changing from aerobics to tai chi. My partner adapted better than I did but we both enjoyed the experience and decided to seek out Pulpo’s regular classes. I was not sure why we ended up connecting with Pulpo the way we did, there was something within both myself and my partner that Pulpo resonated with, but for whatever reason we had an incredible time getting to know the iconoclast of a man.

pulpo-image-2.jpg

The night that was particularly memorable followed on from a tango lesson wherein Pulpo had raged about the state of modern tango culture, about how the political past had eroded yet strengthened tango and how the current period was deeply saddening for him. He then pulled out an audio cassette, outdated technology then, and played us something incredibly precious to him; a song from his father’s orquestra tipica. Pulpo sharing this unique moment with the class led on to his inviting everyone in the class to share a meal and attend a milonga with him. The cassette we later found out, was the only copy he had which he played sparingly, given that cassettes stretch when played eventually distorting the music. Pulpo’s history was rich with tango, both his grandfather and father had played bandoneon. His father’s music was one of the many victims of the various forms of political oppression in Argentina, the masters of many famous tango orquestras were destroyed in an effort to quash tango as a cultural-political movement, Julio Esbrez was one of the musicians whose music had been erased. Public milongas had also been banned during that time with tangueros risking arrest by meeting privately to continue creating tango music with potentially political lyrics and to dance. Pulpo told us how he never wanted to follow what had become the family tradition, he recalled being dragged to milongas as early as three years old, falling asleep to the sound of tango music and the hum of crowds. Being rebellious in nature Pulpo wanted to be a ‘rock star’, more akin to Elvis Presley than to Carlos Gardel, his father disapproved yet Pulpo made the most of both worlds becoming the defiant rock star thorn-in-the-side of the traditional tango movement; although he was also a exceedingly accomplished traditional tango dancer as well.

Julio Norberto Esbrez

Julio Norberto Esberez, El Pulpo’s grandfather (front left)

In Argentina it is tarde or afternoon until around 8pm which is the time when dinner menus become available in all cafes and restaurants, when our class had finished it was still tarde so we agreed to meet later at Villa Malcolm, a hugely popular tango nuevo milonga venue. Milongas start late and run late, often the lessons at the beginning of the evening start at 10pm with the milonga beginning around 11.30pm and running until the small hours of the morning. Nuevo venues tend to have a broad spectrum of age groups present, though prominently younger to middle age dancers, etiquette is more relaxed in comparison to the traditional milonguero milongas where women and men sit separately with a special area set aside for couples who wish only to dance with one another. At a nuevo milonga women and men sit where ever they wish although the all-important cabeceo was still adhered to, albeit not as strictly, say if the room was too dark for eye contact to occur, or the layout of the room made eye contact difficult. It is a major breach of tango etiquette at a milonguero milonga to ask someone to dance in any other manner than the cabeceo – which is the art of seeking eye contact with those you are interested in dancing with, both women and men seek out eye contact but it is traditional, and still considered correct protocol, for the man to initiate the nod of the head to request the dance, the woman responds positive or negative and if it is positive usually the man will then approach her and guide her onto the milonga floor being careful to negotiate around the couples already engaged in dancing. This is a subtle art designed so that neither woman or man are humiliated if the dance is declined, although the bravado of the older men who are more common at the milonguero milongas did astound me. I was disinclined to dance with one man whom I dubbed ‘Argentine Magnum PI’, as his similarity to Tom Selleck as Thomas Magnum was uncanny, at my subtle disinclination to dance with him he made a loud joke with the men around him that the women were ‘playing hard to get tonight’.

 

At Pulpo’s request a large table had been set up at Villa Malcolm where the group could order dinner from the attached kitchens and dine. Pulpo did not dance but ate and poured drinks from one of the large beer bottles that Argentinian’s so enjoy sharing. We wanted to purchase a drink for Pulpo, a gesture that is common in our home country, but he refused as he considered us his guests. Pulpo then, somewhat ironically, pointed out that despite his reputation for being a wild drinker he was consuming cerveza sin alcohol – zero alcohol beer. He then explained that he had diabetes, which is why he didn’t drink and why he had, as he described them, ‘bug eyes’. I danced a number of tandas, a set of four tango songs in the same style which it is customary to dance the entirety of with the same partner, through this first phase of the evening. Many of these were with Mario, who is a gentle bear of a man, a nuevo dancer and tango teacher in his own right who was also a long-time student of Pulpo’s and deferred to him as a maestro. When he first asked me to dance I was hesitant, he took this in his stride and patting his opulent stomach joked that perhaps I was afraid he was too big and heavy to dance and proceeded to prove that he was both light and dexterous on his feet. My partner danced a number of tandas with Pulpo’s current dance partner, this connection seemed more like an apprenticeship where the dancer received one-on-one tuition in exchange for assisting Pulpo in his classes, who was an accomplished tango dancer from Germany. My partner and I also danced together, enjoying one of the best tandas we had ever experienced on the milonga floor.

 

Pulpo spent most of this period of the evening talking with both my partner and I divulging his life story. He discussed the pressures of growing up in a tango family and explained more in-depth about the politics of tango and how having forged a name for himself he now hid things, like how he no longer drank alcohol, because people then asked too many questions about his health. His health, he admitted to us was poor and he was about to embark on an American and European tour in the hopes of recovering some of his former glory and, importantly, to make some money. What Pulpo didn’t want the tango community to know was that he was suffering from complications with his diabetes and needed a liver transplant which he could not afford nor was he very high on the public waiting list because of his age. I think perhaps his state of introspection might have been why he opened up to us so much. We were somehow a safe pair of ears that he was able to divulge his truth and secrets too as we were not a part of the Buenos Aires tango social circuit nor had we come to him ignorant of the subtleties of tango culture. We, like Pulpo were aware of and lamented the central issue within tango politics; Argentine Tango having been recognized by the government as being a national cultural icon worth of heritage status was a ‘catch 22’. Because of this, tango has become a commodity, not just within Argentina but internationally, meaning every aspiring tango dancer/teacher we met was plying for trade or more importantly saw us a potential ticket into the overseas market. This made it difficult to establish the authenticity of each teacher and made it important to be discerning and cautious. The market was flooded with such teachers.

 

As the milonga wore on Pulpo and Mario decided to head to the iconic milonga Parakultural at Salon Canning. At this point we discovered that Mario’s day job was as a taxi driver. As Mario said working as a tango teacher he still had to make money to put food on the table. Pulpo, his dance partner, my partner and myself all piled into Mario’s taxi and made our way across the city. Mario crooning at the top of his lungs to the tango songs on his car stereo system. We had been to Salon Canning before but to arrive at a milonga with Pulpo was an entirely different experience, for one there was no charge at the door and everyone referred to him as ‘maestro’. The other elements were subtler, waiters were more attentive, and locals intrigued by who was at Pulpo’s table. When Pulpo eventually danced with his dance partner they were watched attentively. The following tanda she was immediately beset with dance requests and Pulpo lamented that people ‘always wanted what he had’, this outburst seemed to leave him disgruntled and subdued. Pulpo did not dance with me publicly which I was somewhat relieved by, as I simply was not proficient in his style, nor would I have welcomed any more attention than I already currently had. Even dancing with Mario, who was well known, meant that there were attentive eyes taking in our dances, although it was satisfying to hear the elusive compliment ‘¡eso!’ uttered by a native tango dancer at a highly reputable milonga.

 

Pulpo recovered from his darkened mood and he and my partner resumed conversing intently, being of a similar age they had many commonalities to discuss. Pulpo compared himself to the American rock singer Kid Rock saying that the song ‘Born Free’ surely must be written for him. He lamented the festival where we had met him, reminiscing of the time when there was an entire festival devoted to his style and the proponents of this style were called ‘Pulpitos’. We discovered, although we often attended milongas until the very early hours before hunting out one of the 24hour cafes dotted around the city to refuel before heading home, that Pulpo didn’t seem to need much sleep. We parted when the milonga ended near dawn but as soon as we arrived back at our apartment Pulpo was sending us messages both to check we had arrived home safely and inviting us to join him at his apartment for breakfast and more dancing. We needed sleep so did not take up the offer immediately laughing (ironically) as we were convinced we had adapted to the milonga lifestyle better than most. Shortly after this night Pulpo embarked upon the first leg of his international tour only to end up hospitalised. For the next two years he was in and out of hospital. When the Buenos Aires tango community finally learned of Pulpo’s condition they rallied to raise funds for a liver transplant, sadly before the operation could occur, on 16 July 2014, Pulpo succumbed to liver disease. In Pulpo’s last conversation with me he was in hospital and when I asked how he was he simply said he was like a motorbike with no reverse gear, only ever going forward, signing off by saying we were beautiful friends and always in his heart. We may not solely dance Pulpo’s iconic style, but we were both were deeply moved by our connection with this exceptional tanguero who will forever be an inspiration in our hearts.

Argentine Tango

A dance of seduction and skill…

Not for the faint of heart. Many people over the years have said to me: “Why tango? Salsa is fun, swing is fun, everyone dancing tango look so ‘serious’.” That’s because Argentine Tango is a serious dance, like a game of chess, a debate or a competition fight in martial arts, tango is vital, improvised and in the moment with your partner. The sublime connection of two souls each versed in their craft, one leading the other submitting, yet through her submission she provides her own flavour and suggestion to the dance. The clip above captures parts of the seeking of connection, the couple do not usually dance together so their dance demonstrates improvisation between newly met dancers (it has also been edited to be more like a music video). The same dancer Juana Sepulveda (goddess) with her more (in)famous dance partner Mariano ‘Chicho’ Frumboli dancing in the below clip … (purist note: both of these clips are dancing to nuevo tango music or electronica tango rather than traditional tango musicá. I was blessed to have seen the below improvisation when it was performed live, the poem and music is from a traditional tango legend Rubén Juarez (in contemporary/nuevo form), the dance itself was breathtaking, tear evoking and stunningly beautiful.)

 

 

Lost in Motion revisited

Some time ago I posted a clip of Canadian dancer Guillaume Côté dancing. The piece was a part of a series depicting the emotions performers feel when they expose their souls for all to see. This piece performed by Heather Ogden, choreographed by Guillaume Côté with a Leonard Cohen soundtrack, is the second in the series…

 

 

 

Absolute

Grass Field

When I was a very small child I remember roaming through fields with my brothers and our neighbours. I have strong associations with those times as being part of a unified family group, a feeling of intense and absolute belonging, with no query. The fields we wandered, full of long grass & wild flowers were fenced in by immense oak trees, which seemed to me as large as gods. I remember horses whispering warm breath on my small cold hands, climbing lichen & moss covered fences and gates crossing seemingly endless vistas of grass.

In a new home many year’s later these childhood meanderings developed into solitary excursions.  Rather than safe explorations buoyed by my extended family, they became a search for haven, escapism from the mundane repetition of everyday routines and a longing to recapture the state of being previously taken for ‘absolute’, the search for a sense of belonging. Our family had fractured and dispersed, each alone beneath the same roof. Seeking hope and a place to belong I ran through the long grasses and delved into observing the neighbouring fields and the lives played out in them. Countless hours I spent lying perfectly still on my back watching the grasses sway around me, the insects, the birds, absorbing the sounds around me, watching clouds skid across the sky, drinking in the smallness and the bigness and seeking answers to the question I had: were others feeling this same sense of aloneness? It took an entire field to hold my aloneness yet I felt my wholeness, with nothing to impede it, could fill the sky.

I wrote something at this time, something I stumbled across today. Young as I was I was trying to explain where I danced from:

‘If I dream myself alive, I will awaken, I will live. I evolve alone, alone but whole. At peace, I seek depth.  Touching the real, really living – can you see that I am alive? This is where I find the dance’ – twelve year old me.

Words by errant satiety image from Stefan Olivier

My dog is nice

Still water

I once said in a response to a compliment “that is nice”, the Israeli man I was speaking with looked at me and said “my dog is nice, you are beautiful.”

I worked on a site-specific dance project a few years back. We spent 10 days in the harsh mountainous wilderness of New Zealand creating short pieces within the stunning but severe and changeable environment. The small crew was made up from dancers and cinematographers from the US, Indonesia, Australia and New Zealand. We departed on the first day to walk up the mountain with everything required. Once we arrived at the base hut we made home and gathered to talk. These daily talks became a source of wonder. In the first we discussed the faults that teach of us had and how this might impact the work.  The resounding flaw of mine that was raised was that I was, and I quote, ‘too nice’. I was bemused as to what to do about this seemingly negative trait.

We worked hard, in fact on the first day as we ascended to the mountain peak I was not at my best (at this time I was struggling with several undiagnosed auto-immune diseases) yet I made it with everyone else to the peak and we danced in an almost ridiculously dangerous gale force wind. This wind returned on another day to which myself and another beautiful dancer performed a near naked a duet. It was both insanity and stunningly sublime. The entire time we filmed I was aware of this statement that I was ‘too nice’. I thought because of this that I was a periphery to the work. It wasn’t until the final edit was released and shown publically that I realised I was equal to everyone else and in fact that I took a starring role in most of the final cuts. Again when it came to submitting our diaries for the website my work, although raw, featured significantly. This project taught me something about being ‘nice’; it is a part of me. It is not something I can shed and if that were the only thing these dancers who knew me intimately could come up with as a ‘negative’ then, well I am fine with that. I was in contact with the producer of this piece (editing some work he was writing) about 10 days ago and he had joked whether I was still being ‘too nice’. I assured him resolutely that I was.

This past week I was seriously challenged. I questioned my self, my deep self, that part of me that is kind and ‘nice’ to all in my life (except those I feel intuitively uncomfortable with and I generally have a very strong intuition). I thought seriously about changing who I am publically. I saw this week (once again) that my perhaps my true self is best kept under wraps and muted, when I let it out invariably trouble finds me, as it did this week. Yet a single comment from one person who I deal with almost daily yet do not feel ‘close to’ made me realise the futility and stupidity of this idea. She said, “You can’t change who you really are and you my friend are implicitly nice, you are beautiful. If anyone ever tried to do what that man suggested I know that there are easily a hundred people here in this work place alone that would stand behind you to be sure that either it never happened or if it did that he paid a very heavy price. That smile of yours is a blessing and I know I am not the only one who would fight to the death to make sure that smile is always in the world, unchanged.”

Humbled.

I am going to keep on being nice like that Israeli mans dog even if it means I get kicked occasionally because apparently there are more that see my light than those who wish to extinguish it.

Musical offering (a little bit of Christmas spirit and incredible beautiful)

Words and image by Errant Satiety

When I dance Argentine Tango… Sublime Surrender – October 16 2013

Tango his n hers

I have contemplated for some time whether to repost this. The words that shut ‘Sublime Surrender’ down. It is too much a part of my journey to exclude. I am aware I have changed a lot since I began this blog. I am the same but have allowed my writers voice to emerge louder and louder. I am as complex as the rest of you and I am writing from all the places I feel at home all at once. Bear with me, there will always be a touch of each part of me. Sublime Surrender has become quiet (there are deeply personal reasons for this that I am not ready to share) but there will always be the physical representation of love and relationship in the form of erotica, the dynamics of dominance and submission, the spiritual representation of love, truth and beauty, my random musings and general representations of me as an artist, dancer, writer, lover, friend and one as lost as any one else. Thank you all for reading, understanding and for taking the time to visit my corner of this terrible paradise… In response to Mr Modigliani’s post and questions back on 15 October 2013:

When I dance Argentine Tango, the lead is the painter and I am the brush. The lead is the Dominant and the follow submissive. Together we create upon the dance floor a canvas in motion. We become a moving three-dimensional work of art. Our materials are not paint but the music, our bodies and the environment in which we dance. Yet if either of us disconnects from any of these things if we lose sight of any ‘other’ within our dance the moment is lost and must be sought and found again. If one of us is not humble and honest we lose the authenticity of the improvisation. It doesn’t matter what our individual skill level we have a dance to share, to experience one another and create something unique, to potentially learn from one another and leave the dance more fulfilled rather than lost, empty, nervous, confused, dissatisfied or any other of a myriad of negative feelings.

A humble follow does not saturate the dance with her needs and wants but listens with her whole body, her whole self, and waits for her moments, showing her skill by responding clearly and with the right tone and musicality to each lead; by taking the invited opportunity and enhancing it without dominating the dance. A humble lead is dominant in the dance but not blind to the follow, he can sense what she is capable of and take her there and potentially beyond. The follow enables his skill, never forget that follows: we enable his lead therefore we can disable it as well. Within the shared framework of the music and the floor (possibly crowded) he guides her as they paint their dance. If a follow is afraid, arrogant, unable to centre, distracted, disinterested, indifferent etc she emasculates her lead on the floor and he is unable to truly dance with this follow. A lead can disable a follow with excessive force, an ambiguous or light lead, inability to react to the floor or poor tango etiquette but neither can fail the other with insufficient skill. The dance is always the responsibility of the dancer with greater skill. No verbal dialogue is required for this work of art, no language other than the shared knowledge of Tango. In any country you can dance together and not speak a common word. Within the dance he (or she) becomes my muse and I his (or hers – this is not a gender war read your gender into the role you relate to). Each adapts to the other and creates. Other people have described the sensation of all of these things coming together in an exquisite harmony as a ‘tangasm’ but I do not like this overtly sexual term; social Tango is not sex. Another term is ‘co-creation’ but this again has an overtly new age spiritual flavour. To me it is simply Tango. There is no other term required. Tango y nada mas. Tango and nothing more. Sometimes the dance does not work and we can learn from these opportunities. Other times the dance does work; it is lyrical, unique and unforgettably beautiful. Both are valid, both are real why call one tangasm and the other nothing or something negative? Yet the harmony will never happen unless each truly meets in the moment, or are open to the possibility of such a thing.

For the lead: do not push the follow into territory she is not familiar with to the point of discomfort, scold, or correct/instruct her on the social dance floor, if she is able then take her further with clear direction do not let her doubt it will damage her. For the follow: do not back lead, be a stubborn follow or act unreasonably; instead be relaxed with a dance energised focus, be open and willing. Meet each other as the best you are. Gift one another with the skills you have. Learn from the mistakes and triumphs however seemingly small or large. We are often quick to criticise, teach yourself to be quick to complement both yourself and your dance partner. Do not be lazy or complacent in your dance be actively engaged so that growth can occur and connection can truly exist. Please note that I am not suggesting that there is only good or bad tango dances; there is not just black and white here but rather a vast pallet of colours. I am also not suggesting that you should dance with people you do not enjoy dancing with or feel uncomfortable with. Nor that you not offer constructive criticism but please save it for the practice environment not the social dance floor. Tango is, to borrow and simplify a Flamenco term, duende, both pleasure and pain. We are always seeking balance and striving towards the best we can be. Tango y nada mas, para siempre. Como la vida. Tango and nothing more, always. Like life.

All words by the author writing as Errant Satiety – any questions? Contact me directly in the first instance, want to share? In this instance please ask my express permission…

Apologies, I cannot locate where I retrieved this image from kudos to whomever caught this shot…

And yes there is a musical offering: Pearl Jam, I know it doesn’t make much sense.

Gifts

Three tellings of the same sweet story…

We encounter many souls in our lives. Some we are not inclined to spend much time with. Others we meet and find we are immediately enamored with. Others we greet as old friends, as if we remember them from another time and place. Some surprise us with a slow connection and one day you realise you just adore them.

I was reminded the other night of a wonderful example of the fleeting connection that is long lived, a meeting of souls that must already be long familiar. The Dutch pragmatist and I drove past a beautiful olive grove and private residence that stirred especially fond memories. The owner of this property now lives overseas but her extended family live there and run the olive oil business and she returns to holiday. She is a tango dancer and the last time she returned she brought with her an Argentine teacher who she is very good friends with. We have never met before but are introduced by a mutual friend we all get on like a ‘house on fire’. The teacher is a true Maestro and gentleman. They arrive in the height of summer so there are several large Milongas (tango social dances) while they are in town. We become a tight group having intense conversations and much wonderful dancing. From the first dance I have with the teacher he is praising myself and my partner and encouraging us to teach. He complements me in a unique way, acknowledging my ability to adapt to each different lead and style of dancing. For me this is high praise as I see this as the ultimate aim of improvisation. I partner another teacher for some private lessons with him. Then he invites us all to have a final get together to celebrate our mutually enjoyed time. When we arrive there are three male dancers and two female. Olive oil introduces us to her sister and explains that this day is the anniversary of a third sisters passing and that this sister was the one who introduced her to tango. They ask if the teacher and I will perform. We do and it is heaven. We drink good wine and eat and dance. It is an intense evening for me as the men are all playing with ideas and I am their tanguera as Olive oil is more a beginner. We dance into the small hours and in the end just the teacher and I are dancing as the others have moved onto conversation and there has been a lot of wine… We are in our own world, reduced to the music, each other, and the floor. It is very intense he communicates with great subtlety what minimal changes he wishes; a tiny movement in his hand upon my shoulder and I know he wants me to soften here, just so. This moment of suspended dance is etched forever in my soul. We dance very different styles yet we found each others essence and communed. The dancing eventually came to a natural end he held my eyes, deeply smiled at me kissed me chastely but fully on the lips returned me to my man and sang my praises to him begging us to promise we will start to teach, that we come see him in Buenos Aires and that we remain as connected as we are. This is the true essence of tango spirit.

Trece amigos. Dos Tangueros, un Milonguero y Yo. A farewell, a performance and an extended improvisation.

Willing
Primero embrace tasted through his distinguished eyes. Words pass his lips full of genuine and lavish interpretation, concise compliment to my movement; entiendas. Prophetic words astonish mind. Taking offered hand, accepting instigated connection. Stranger embraced as lover, intimate conversation, souls seeking tangible. Seen. Known. Danced. Flush of pure dance pleasure. Ending, continuum, lushness flows within all dances. Satiated, overflow, seeking the core of every connection. Night passes, more enjoyed, none as sweet as the first or the finale. Our farewell in a prolonged dance, subtle articulation, gestures refine perfection. Endless flow, música drives deeper, extending within, without, innocent harmony. Finally, speechless mouths thank with chaste lips. Returned to lover, gratitude shared, intimate inquiry lush with ripening. Body memory never to be lost.

Aida Denis ‘Anoche’

Slumber

Fleet footed dancing from bed housed outdoors, spring rain tickling skin. Naked, fae like, I pause gleaming in dawns light, face lifted to taste gods tears. Laughing I continue flight to warm waters indoors. Steamed mirror frames arctic eyes. Hello. Self-aware, seeking anchor of soul to form. Breath encased in weighty flesh, soothing but cumbersome. In my dreams movement is effortless, gravity defied, wings of angels adorn me.

Image

Photography: the very talented Mr Kyle Thompson