Bye Ann Arbor. Bye Mtango. Bye MATC. Bye Tios.
10 months since my first encounter with Tango. Some people still don't understand my obsession with it, some kind of do, some are hooked.
How do I describe the first Milonga. The first time we sat there, nervous, hoping no one would ask us to dance because, heck all we knew was to walk. The people waltzing past us, confident, swirling movements, faces contorted with emotion. I fell in love right there in that darkened gothic-ish bavarian setting that will forever be my first memory of Tango.
Oh life. It's only months but looking back it seems like years.
10 months since my first encounter with Tango. Some people still don't understand my obsession with it, some kind of do, some are hooked.
How do I describe the first Milonga. The first time we sat there, nervous, hoping no one would ask us to dance because, heck all we knew was to walk. The people waltzing past us, confident, swirling movements, faces contorted with emotion. I fell in love right there in that darkened gothic-ish bavarian setting that will forever be my first memory of Tango.
Oh life. It's only months but looking back it seems like years.
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