Tangodurians

I love you, I hate you, you make my feet hurt like shit and you give me so many bloody insecurities and bruised big toes I might as well hide in a corner and never emerge. I'll never conquer you and I'll spend my whole life (and too much money) trying to perfect you, before realizing what I needed was the very thing I started off with, but am slowly losing...rawness. I live you, I breathe you, you  brought  me in touch with so many people and a couple that are unforgettable...that's what you are. Maybe you'll end up being my bridge, my connector, in fact, you already are, to myself, to friends, to lovers, to memories, to a past to living in moments suspended together, to jealousy, envy, pride, embarassment, to futures and foreign places. To big old santa claus guys proclaiming tango as heroin, to musty May nights in Triangulo missing someone, to 24 hour flights and 4 day festivals, to reconnecting as never before, to La Cumparsitas x 10, to barefoot Tango in kitchen