"No quiero nada, nada más
que no me dejes, frente a frente, con la vida."
Juan D'Arienzo and Luis Rubinstein
The hall was filled with music and life. Nothing more.
Everything within was part of those two axioms, the dim light had become a mere sound and the dance revealed itself the essence of living. She stood stoic as a pillar, a stance of serene readiness only softened by a faint, but blindingly honest smile. I embraced her at the edge of the floor and stepped onto the solidity of wood, away from a carpeted floor that could hold the weight of D'Arienzo's beat no more. As I stepped down I felt, more than realised, that something had changed, as if my mind had been left behind, unceremoniously tucked away inside the shoe bag. Within me remained feeling, and the dewy voice of Alberto Echagüe permeated me. Nothing more.
"Cuánta nieve habrá en mi vida
sin el fuego de tus ojos!
Y mi alma, ya perdida,
sangrando por la herida,
se dejará morir.
Y en la cruz de mis anhelos
llenaré de brumas mi alma,
morirá el azul del cielo,
sobre mi desvelo
viéndote partir."
Following the song's tale, I bled my soul onto the dance floor, but curiously it was not lost, but uplifted by the emotion of this curiously tragic song. In short, I danced as if I were in love. Nothing more.
