Wednesday, December 19


He sits down at the table and writes
“with this poem you won’t take power” he says
“with these verses you won’t make the Revolution” he says
“nor with thousands of verses will you make the Revolution” he says

What’s more: those verses won’t make
peons teachers woodcutters live better
eat better or him himself eat live better
nor will they make a girl fall in love with him

they won’t earn him money
they won’t get him into movies free
he can’t buy clothes with them
or trade them for wine or tobacco

no scarves no parrots no boats
no bulls no umbrellas can he get for them
they will not keep him dry in the rain
nor get him grace or forgiveness

“with this poem you won’t take power” he says
“with these verses you won’t make the Revolution” he says
“nor with thousands of verses will you make the Revolution” he says
He sits down at the table and writes

Juan Gelman,
Unthinkable Tenderness, Selected Poems.

Tuesday, December 11

Tango Gifts!

I had a lovely Christmas gift last week. My true gift was in what she told me as she gave me her gift-wrapped present. She said "This is for you; you make me feel the most beautiful dancer!" That was an incredibly touching comment. It let me know that I had a part in making someone feel so very special.

The true pleasure of dancing is about how we feel and make others feel. I do believe that this matters much more than how we look when we dance on any Milonga floor.

The beauty of the dance is not in the high kicks, the jumps or the death-drops or however many other well or badly executed acrobatics of "Aerial Moves". Those may easily impress many who don't know much about true expressions of performing arts - including dancing tango but like any good song it is not the numbers present in the orchestra but the melody itself that makes or breaks the pleasure of any music.

Tango is about expressions and feelings, both inside and out. Carols Gavito used to say: "It is not how many complicated steps we take to dance a tango but how we express what we feel with every step in a tango".

I took her gift and thanked her. We had soon joined to dance again some more. The pleasure of knowing how beautiful she felt gave me the feelings of having equally the best of times.

The only cat who loves you back!

Wednesday, December 5


My skin stretches further and further. I can't ever remember my skin being this thin. I am fearful; I watch my pulse, it rises and falls, and it is like the rhythms and sounds that one hears and sees on the surface of a hot spring lake. With every beat, the question never leaves me alone: " Would my skin burst now, this time?"

"Should I wish it to stop? " - I know I can - if only I command it, but I don't, and I enjoy the dizziness of fear which it installs with every pulsating beat. I may be ripped apart; my skin senses the slippery oxygen molecules bouncing off as they slide and skip off me.

My eyes are working hard, they burn but try and follow the magnetic fields that have now formed and exist around me and my body. The fields, they twist and turn like long ropes in unison evolving and hugging whatever they feel attracted to. I find myself in greatest affinity with the large speakers - in both corners of the room. They pull me and hold me at an equidistant but this alters with those melodic frequencies and waves, "Would I be ripped apart this way? Should I command it to stop?"

"I should take charge" I hear my mind!

The feverish pulsating hot blue veins burn my skin from inside. "What is it that I need and want? What is it that I am waiting for?"

The glass broke into millions of pieces as it fell to its death, on its side, the red wine stains spilled out everywhere on the worn out carpet and against the cream colloured wall. It is "Oxon Red", the colour of freshly cut wound, blood. The sharp sound of the glass breaking when it fell makes no indentation on the volume of the music that is being played, and the magnetic fields are totally unaware that parts of the south facing walls are now stained with some inexpensive red wine.

It was at that very precise moment - in that very careless moment, that these two Worlds swapped places. The one from within and the one from without. I now find myself continue this existence in the one that I am yet to come to know.

I never fear the unknown; it is what that I do know that constantly frightens me .

The only cat who loves you back!

Wednesday, November 28

The Tastes

I loved how sweet her breath tasted. Amongst all the figures and many shadows in which the mirror reflected it was her smiling during our dances which were framed for me to take away in my memories of us dancing. I had turned her gently round; round one corner and then again round into another, and that was when I noticed her smiles for the very first time, she looked happy and content. I could see as well as sense her pleasure in dancing that valse.

The intensity of depth and the harmony of her synchronised breathing with mine was in itself hypnotic. It was with every breath of hers that I could taste a little more of her scent, her breath, her skin, a sweetness that was so unique; the taste of wild flowers and honey. I remember these taste vividly always. I had known them for so many years, they had stayed with me from the family trips to the country side. In our frequent all weekend picnics, sitting under the shades of some very large trees, and facing those tall mountains that were all covered in a blanket of green, with a backdrop scenery of wild flowers that went as far afield as eyes could see, those are where the scents were from, and now this woman whom I had not known for long reminded me of them.

The tastes of the sweet honey; the fresh salty crumbled cheese; both generously spread on a one day's old bread and eating these sandwiches as the honey dripped through our small child fingers made me and every other child feel truly content and happy for a very long time afterwards.

Combined with our dancing there were such abundance of thoughts of colours, shapes, and scents of high and low notes that I could not possibly gather them all in any single frame-of-mind.

When the songs had finished briefly I watched her closely and wondered "how could anyone paint the feelings of contentment in simplicity of two dimensions where the mirror had only managed to try?" - just!

There is so much to taste yet in our lives hence I wish us a never ending hunger; there is so much to search for and to learn hence I say "May we stay very foolish as long as we care to admit and dare to admire!"

The only cat who loves you back!

Sunday, November 25

25th November !

International Day for the Elimination of Violence Against Women

"This is a call to action on behalf of countless women around the world whose daily lives are marred by violence and abuse. Gender-based violence is perhaps the most shameful human rights violation.

As long as it continues, we cannot claim to be making real progress towards equality, development and peace. " Kofi Annan

Only when I care; I feel,
only when I feel; I sense I live.

White Ribbon : Take more responsibility for reducing the level of violence against women.


Thursday, November 22

Illegal in Tango!

Machista [macho-ist] values that influence legislations in Latin America can give some of us reasons for pondering why "Sexual Harassments" is seen as a NORMAL "Macho" act by a small but still significant minority in Tango community outside Latin America.

In 14 Latin American countries a man may legally rape his wife or fiancée, and in some of these countries including Argentina and Chile-a rapist need only propose marriage to escape prosecution.

It may be true that Tango has had some of its history hazed in a background where some of its popularity was tinged by its practice at the brothels of Buenos Aires but if we are to get some perspective on this we should say "That was over 100 years ago!"

If Tango has culturally moved away from that state of mind even in Bs As, why don't some of its practitioners here do the same 100 years later?

Perhaps while a rape is not punishable as a "criminal assault" on a person there then it is difficult to make some understand why "sexual harassment" is - for being an assault, and therefore illegal here.

The only cat who loves you back!

Saturday, November 10

Dancing Tango - in her poem

Oh, Orlando!
Remember the night we danced
quietly on the sands where music
was played? Your words were
wonderers, said quietly
in the pockets of my ears.

Oh, Esphahan!
With your turquoise blue mosques
and lovers hiding under the sands
by the Zayandehrood and its haunting
blue skies. Still the words did
wonders when they were said quietly
in the pockets of my ears.

Time is eternity, my dignity
resides in yours and your
words are wonders that I count
as precious coins kept quietly
in the pockets of my tears.

"Dancing Tango"
by: Sheema Kalbasi

Monday, November 5

Autumn Tangos

There is something mesmerising and unique about strolling on fallen leaves. The fragility and frailty of these leaves are a good reminder of how life with all its imperfections is precious.

Personally I never feel that autumn is a sad season. It is truly beautiful; it is a portrait of life cycles, it is the invigorating sense of fighting for survival. The nature shows off its knowledge for continued existence. In order to continue with life, many parts that make the whole, they must sacrifice themselves and die. Trees and plants celebrate hopes for another cycle of life, they play the most cruel game: gambling on possibilities of death and banking that they will live again.

Those red and tearful eyes were sad and angry. The betrayal may not have been intentional but the heartaches and pains were just as real as if it were. Painful and inconsolable, and none of them were much different from the others either. There was yet another, talking of trust betrayed. They insisted repeatedly that they did not deserve these cruel cold lines used for their break ups.

Earlier I had listened to her, quietly and for very long. She had talked for some time. She was just as upset as the last I'd heard. A very strange fortnight, since two weeks ago when I had heard of the first break up I have become a lot better at this. I am still baffled by what has gone on. She is the 4th, and at this rate there will soon be none in my circle of friends who are still in a relationship.

With the first break-up I was too eager to comfort her. I had dived in with many supporting comments. This was a bad mistake. A very bad mistake. I know better now, I have learned.

She spoke and I kept quiet. I let her say all she wanted. She did not want to hear any from me but instead wanted me to hear from her anger, her disappointment and how her dreams had vanished in one very brief conversation.

With the news of the 2nd and 3rd friends' break-ups I had become a true believer in the calming effects of keeping my mouth shut.

This afternoon when the 4th friend said "we broke up yesterday.", my immediate thought was if there was a relationships virus going around. A very silly thought but random misfortunes are not supposed to take part in any organised sequence.

I am not sure how endearing it is to be considered as a very close friend in such times to hear talks of sadness and vulnerability. I have been privy to much that I had wished not to hear since I feel they should not feel so much anger and pain and sadness.

Is it part of this seasonal change effecting many ? I can't think it being pure coincidence that in less than two weeks I have heard of four friends relationships ending. I can hear my mother's voice in such circumstances "It is people's destiny, and it is for the best, you will see!", I wish I could think the same but I can't.

Everyone chooses their own destiny, it is the consequences of these choices that we must learn to come to terms with.

Under my feet, the leaves' crunching with that special feel of sound and sight, these are very familiar, they are the sounds and sights from my childhood days; the breaking and squishing noises. My feet are encouraged with these sounds to take another step with every step, and I continue to walk through the park. This is a beautiful park, another very good reason to like my neighbourhood.

I needed to clear my head. After that long conversation I felt I really needed this. It is not easy to sympathise and keep a sensible conversation when the other party is in no mood for talking sense, specially when they feel that it is with their sensibility that they are hurt.

There is still some light in the late afternoon's sky, the air is crisp, and the breeze is cold enough to persuade me to put my hands rather quickly back into my pockets after I switched on my mp3 player. The tracks that I am hearing remind me of the summer picnics that I shared with a dear friend in this park.

It is strangely a sweet and warm feeling inside remembering those. We had danced these tracks on the green grass fields that were here then and under the shades of those massive tall trees there. They are still standing tall but almost totally bare of any leaves. We had danced without embarrassment or care. Passers-by came and went, some bemused and some others visibly amused. We shared an ear piece each to enjoy listening to the music as we danced those heartfelt melodies. We enjoyed sharing and enclosing ourselves in one another's embrace. I am glad that we celebrated making ourselves those memories when we could.

On the way home the last thing on mind was any thoughts of the autumn blues, I had switched off the mp3 player. I wanted to better hear and feel those leaves, picturing us dancing some tangos, specially for this autumn.


Sunday, November 4

Tango Obscurity

The other evening some of us went to a new tango venue in the West End of London. I like to welcome the new addition but let us reserve any comments on it till it becomes a regular weekly event as it is promised to be in the new year, 2008.

Competition is always good for everyone involved, with so many teachers gathering and dancing in some of our popular venues in London, one can not ignore the competition they enter to on and off the dance floor. They show themselves off delightfully whenever the opportunities are there. I suppose it is expected that they turn up to size each other up, and to see what the others are up to.

For some of us the main show of the evening is whenever a popular piece is being played late in the evening, this is the time to watch the dance floor suddenly flourishing into some impromptus competition by the teachers and their partners. It can not be denied that these shows are very amusing. The occasional unplanned nature of these competitions - not that they would themselves admit to taking part - in the midst of all others dancing and in between the crowd, certainly worth the time and attention of any discerning observers, a feast for the eyes.

It is easy to see that there are many new faces teaching in
London. Everyone is trying hard to find their feet (excuse the pond!) especially if this is their chosen new home. It may take them a while to culturally adjust to new situations and people here. I like to wish them all good fortunes and success while they stay.

The competition and venues are increasing in numbers and I am very much hoping that this increase will be reflected in the quality of the classes and venues being offered. It may be worth mentioning that there had been some teacher(s)/organisers in the past who had mistaken the
London dancers simply as cash-cows to milk without offering much in return. They are now either not here any longer or living so much on the peripheries that it does not matter what they may be doing with themselves at all.

Politicians know that there is an island called "Obscurity", they travel there for refuge when their opportunistic past can not be erased. Not many ever come back from that island and if by some fluke of circumstances they they do they never speak of who else lives there, surly the politicians are not the only ones living there.

The only cat who loves you back!

Thursday, October 11

Gavito: Charm & Passion

Q: And who have you learned the most from?
Gavito: Too many. You learn from many people ... on the street...the simple people...Sometimes so simple, you have envy and want to be yourself more simple and more honest. In the not be the one that moves more and does more steps but to be the one that gives more.

Carlos Gavito and his amigos

He will continue to live in our "dancing souls" and not just in our hearts' memories of him. This is just as he wisely wished it.


Wednesday, October 10

Tango Cringe & Acrobatics

First of all I would like to thank all of you readers who got in touch and showed some concerns or at least your kind curiosity as to why lately my postings had dried up.

"No!" I had not imposed a self-censorship on myself. I had not been banned, threatened, or frightened away by any of the organisers of the tango scene in
London or even the far off places in the UK. Someone had even suggested that perhaps I had stopped my love affair with tango because I have been having an affair of personal nature! This was not the case either plus the fact that my true love of tango never dies, and can not be compromised away.

So in short, I can only say that LIFE had managed to get in the way, but I am now back again.

Although I have been away from these pages and not posted but I kept in touch with the bizarre tango market in
London. It is still in full swing.

I would have liked to have written about the show dances. The theatrics demos by the very inexperienced that made us all cringe - feeling sorry for them embarrassing themselves in the most public manner - or other demos with different cringe factors when we have been treated to the other end of the spectrum in the acrobatics antics performed by some very well known tango artists. They made us wonder if their many years of experience should have taught them to know better - evidently not!

Playing acts of the populist street tango belongs to where it suggests they belong to. These acrobatics are not suitable for demonstrations to those people who actually appreciate and love dancing real Argentine Tango.

Since our seasonal milongas' pre-Christmas tango competitions began a bit earlier than usual this year, there was expectation by many of us that some wonderful new and creative programs may follow soon for this year but suddenly - with some similarly questionable appearances we are witnessing strange coalitions being declared . Consequently the season ended without having ever had a chance to get started. It all fizzled out; an old bottle of lemonade gone flat; tasteless and without sparkles. These came about despite whatever their adverts said!

Finally, I am hoping to keep my promise of logging in and posting into this blog more regularly, I have truly missed you too!

The Only Cat Who Loves You Back!

Thursday, September 20

Some dance

Some dance to remember,
Some dance to forget.

Some are relentless and near perfect,
Some are hopeless!
Some are careless and pitifully tactless,
Some are heartless,
Some are angelic and selfless.

Some are "dandy and fine",
Some are randy, desperate, badly in need of being refined,
Some are gorgeous, - and some are not!

Some are handsome beautiful dancers;
dancing with passion - heavenly, divine.

Some are 'living-romantics'
but dancing like they are monks.

Some are weary of affections;
panic stricken, fearful, anxious and frantic,
Some stay and fight,
Some always run and hide.

Some are tired with life,
Some say "they are unlucky, in love & life",

Some become dancers not to feel bored,
Some never are – themselves being "the real tiresome bores".

Some are still waiting,
Wishing a fairy tale encounter
Is there another they wonder
- wanting fever, longing , heart stopping moments,
caresses, kisses, lust;
and maybe talks of love,
mixed in, with tingling caring whispers!?

"Isn't that why some dance,
'a brief romance'
- packaged into a Tango dance.?"

" orgasmic embrace,
squeezing the juice of passion;
In arms of some stranger,
- no one ever needs to know,
- no need to meet after or ever again,
or to acknowledge that they had or ever been"

With an exchange of thanks,
ending a blissful dance;
- private, intimate moments,
- not feeling guilty,
- being fine with one's being: totally selfish!

To Remember or To Forget;
I dance for neither.
I dance to toast and taste my Life,
Capturing a few more exhilarating moments
– pausing Life, drink its juice -
enjoy its gift, feeling alive - for just a little longer.

Some dance to remember,
Some dance to forget,
Let's drink a toast, and wish ourselves some more!


Thursday, September 13

Thames & Tango

The start is here again. With autumn and the weather getting cooler, students returning to universities, summer holidays are soon to be just memories and pictures, the evenings will begin to extend and sunsets rapidly getting earlier than the immediate days before. These are the times that Tango evenings become more feverish and crowded .

In our milongas we shall see many more faces, some are old friends who come back - we have missed you in your absence -, and there are also many who are new to the joys of dancing tango, with their bright smiles and sometimes shy and uncertain look in their eyes hoping to master the challenges they see as steps and moves, they make themselves instantly known or just try to hide in the corners a little longer. Let us all give them a warm welcome to both our old friends and the new.

This weekend on the 15th and 16th September 2007, London is having its annual Thames Festival. This year, for the second year running, Tango will play some major part in celebrating this river and its history.

Right outside The New Tate Modern, one of the most wonderful galleries of art, there will be hopefully hundreds of people who'd embrace each other warmly and dance tango all day long both on Saturday and Sunday.

This two days event is accompanied by many other social attractions and fun celebrations along the river.

For the Tango dance lovers, I believe the Thames Festival and The River Tango program make a unique and very popular way with which to herald the commencement of our new season of tango here in London.

We all have our fingers crossed for autumn sunny days this weekend. The weather forecast is good. Even if you live a little far out, it is worth the trip into London. Travel here and stay the weekend, you will regret it if you don't, turn up, dance and enjoy and let us celebrate the Thames and the start of the tango season in style!

Hope to see you all!
The Only Cat Who Loves You Back!

Saturday, September 1


On the way home, sun is rising, once more it is hard to believe how time flew by, it is another beautiful dawn, I wonder how many other dancers promised to meet by the stars for another night.

These nights, there was no need for a stage, and we did not want to be seen or hide but there were many who had noticed us sharing our box of chocolates every time we met. Within our embrace and through our steps, it is difficult to hide the panic as insane tenderness sets in, stronger roots on every turn, it becomes overwhelming and the whole never stops.

I'll miss us dancing till break of dawns - I know - soon it is time to say good-bye between us, and our sky could not be shared. When you are gone I'll send you a postcard telling you what it is like when you have never left my mind.

The Only Cat Who Loves You Back!

Sunday, August 19

Insane Tenderness

Maybe it adds a little more pleasure to your listening of this song next time when you "live" it.

Balada para un loco...
Press Play & Enjoy!

The afternoons in Buenos Aires have this... well,
you know.
You leave your house down Arenales Avenue.
The usual : on the street and in you...
Then suddenly, from behind a tree,
I show up.

Rare mix of the next to last tramp
and the first stowaway on a
trip to Venus:
a half melon on the head,
a striped shirt painted on the skin,
two leather soles nailed to the fet,
and a taxi-for-hire flag up
in each hand.

You laugh! But only you can see me:
because the mannequins wink at me,
the traffic lights flash me three lights
sky-blue and the oranges at the corner grocery stand
cast their blossoms at me.
Come on!, that this way, half dancing, half flying,
I remove the melon to greet you.
I give you a little flag and I tell


l know I'm crazy, crazy, crazy...
don't you see the moon
rolling through Callao;
a second line of astronauts and
children waltzing around me...
Dance! Come! Fly!

I know I'm crazy,
I'm crazy, I'm crazy...
I see Buenos Aires from a sparrow's nest;
and I saw you so sad...
Come! Fly! Feel!...
the crazy desire I have for you:

Crazy! Crazy! Crazy!
As darkness sets in your porteña loneliness,
by the shores of your bedsheets I'll come
with a poem and a trombone
to keep your heart sleepless.

Crazy! Crazy! Crazy!
Like a demented acrobat I'll dive,
into the abyss of your cleavage 'till I feel

I drove your heart crazy with freedom.
You'll see!

Love me this way I am, crazy, crazy, crazy...
climb up into my insane tenderness,
don a wig of larks on your head and fly!
Fly with me now! Come! Fly! Come!

Love me the way I am, crazy, crazy, crazy...
open up your love, we are going to attempt
the crazy magic of reviving...
Come , fly , come! Trai-lai-lai-larara!


Let's go flying, my dear.
get on my super sport illusion,
let's run over the cornices
with a swallow in the engine.

From Vieytes they applaud: "Hooray! Hooray!",
the nuts who invented
Love, and an angel, a soldier and a girl
give us a dancing waltz.

The beautiful people come out to say hello.
And crazy, but yours, I don't know!;
I cause a stridency of bells with my laugh,
and finally, I look at you, and sing softly


Love me this way I am, crazy, crazy, crazy...
climb up into my insane tenderness,
don a wig of larks on your head and fly!
Fly with me now! Come! Fly! Come!

Love me the way I am, crazy, crazy,
open up your love, we are going to attempt
the crazy magic of reviving...
Come , fly , come!


Hooray! Hooray! Hooray!
She's crazy and I'm crazy...
Crazy! Crazy! Crazy!
She's crazy and so am I.
(Original Translation by: Alberto Paz)

Enjoy all the mad turns that life will offer!

I love the dizziness with which mine steps through every note in its waltz. There is comfort, as well as joy, in the "insane tenderness" that brings people together and also sets us apart.

How we choose to part is not to be a question, it takes time to appreciate it all, I wish you it all that there is in the crazy turns of this wonderful waltz of life.

The Only Cat Who Loves You Back!

Tuesday, August 7

Three o'clock

"Three o'clock is always too late or too early for anything you want to do."
Jean-Paul Sartre, Nausea (1938) "Vendredi"
French author & existentialist philosopher (1905 - 1980)
Surely dancing Tango needs to be an exception here, did he ever try?

The Only Cat Who Loves You Back!

Thursday, August 2

Bitter-Sweet Fruit of Love

It was on the edge of the forest when they met.

She said "Oh my Goodness! Sit down for a while! Have you been to 'Hell' and back!?"
- "Yes! It has been a long time, I don't know how far I have been or come, 'here' I am." he said.

She asked "Who are you? Where do you come from?"
- "I am 'The Stranger' who comes from a city named 'Friendly'" he said.

He could not now help himself but had to ask "and...who are you ? What is your name? "
- "I am named after the bitter-sweet fruit of Love. 'Torangina' is what I have been called" she said.

She then asked "What are you seeking this far?"
- "Hoping to find and fill a void: 'A pair of eyes', I had once seen them, it was in a dream, They looked into mine and reflected my inner soul, 'mesmerised & lost' : that is what I have become and remained ever-since." he said.

She said "Aha! this may interest you, now let me see, yes I remember it well, there was another, someone who went this way, looking for a man who had blinded her. She talked of losing her eyes in a Man's dream! Her worry was that she had no eyes to see him with. How could she recognise this man with her lack of sight?".

The angel - the one who had fallen to earth - then went quiet. They stayed silent. She got up and said "I must be off now" and pretended to take off, away from him, a flightless jump without her wings it was impossible. He was left alone and the angel tried her take offs so many times, in vain she hobbled.

Soon he stood up too and wandered off, into another journey, not knowing how much further there is yet to go for him. He had to find her before he died, he needed to fill the void where his soul used to live.

Seeking each other, a man, a woman, forever. Neither of whom knew of the other, nothing more than what they had told someone called 'Torangina': the angel who had fallen.


Wednesday, August 1

No lectures!

If a teacher does not share his/her embrace with you in order to:
  • Teach you how a sequence works;
  • Correct your mistakes on a technique;
  • Polish the move that you are struggling with,
then "Don't hesitate, just leave that class!" Don't waste your time and money any further there, try another teacher who respects you enough to share.

One more important thing to do is to "spread the word!" about any unfair, lazy and even disrespectful behaviour which you may have experienced by some teacher(s).

By bringing any such matters into the open we will let all the community know and help it to stop any unnecessary suffering. "Tango Business" is like any other business, there are good participants and there are not so very good ones.

Seek and engage in lessons with the teachers who do-the-dance WITH you and NOT just talk-the-dance AT you !

Dancing requires a different kind of teacher than that of "philosophy". In order to teach "emotions in motions" the teachers need to communicate part of themselves through dancing it with you and not lecturing it at you.

The Only Cat Who Loves You Back!

Tuesday, July 24

Tango speaks one language

I would like to express my thanks to the reader(s) who recommended and also those who translated my posted article: "What is your price" into Italian and published it there at FAIblog.

Tango speaks its own language of love, joy, friendship, and passion, and it is wonderful to see that we can share in many pleasures of its expressions.

The only cat who loves you back!

Tuesday, July 17

Private Dancer (Part 5)

She could not ever be certain if it was the city or its people. London. A city of loners, hermits, and all those who may say they hate to live a life of recluse but despite all this they never fail to miss any given opportunity to remain an insider who lives the life of an outsider.

As a general rule "It is safer not to mix". On the tube, at a bus stop, waiting for a cab or driving through the busy streets, no one's eyes ever meet someone else's with the intention to say "Hello!" and if one says such words then it is assumed that you are trouble; not worth the bother - it is best to look the other way. This is London, you are not a Londoner if you are not a loner.

In her favourite Milongas she felt these barriers were gone, lifted. Here she is expected to play by different rules. To navigate the social scene in tango, she saw this as a game. Milonga's games are there to be played, even to be enjoyed; to tease and to be teased back by them, that is part of the promise of any afternoon or evening of tango.

She had learned that first and foremost it is about the People and their masks. Anyone who enters a milonga soon puts on their "tango masks".Mask of Nothingness By Designer: Ozan Ayitkan

Each has one or more of their own masks, depending on the mood or the season: the dancer, the teaser, the teacher, the seducer, the soulful, the casual freelancer, the serious, the melancholic manic depressive, the cheerful-for-ever-optimist, the drama queen, the prince, the cat-the lion- and-the king, the hopeless romantic, the passion junkie, the damsel in distress, the woman longing to be loved and caressed, the man by the deep shadows of the walls, the charmer, the clueless, the menace, the tame, the wild, the actor and the actress, and there are still so many more. Everyone has a mask and no one ever objects. This is the tango scene and every one has to match the decor.

In milongas the mask could get you what you always wanted, well almost. If everyone is willing to play the game then it is easy and one can go far without any blame. The only problem has always been that everyone does carry a whole load of junk in their hearts: 'their past'. They have forever tried their best to hide this behind their masks.

Tango allowed her room to breath and consequently in its air there was 'a chance to live'. She wondered if it did really make anyone feel the same. Was it much different for them in their non-tango-life where and when " life of drama " ended with the last of the tango songs, but the "Drama of Life" began just on the outside, not far from any of those milongas walls?

She just sat there and watched the floor. Dancers passed and the floor lived its revolutions and turmoil and the calm- all at once and without any qualms. She had been waiting, to make her first dance a chance with which to enter the floor, to b
ring her the mood that could keep her satisfied through the evening ahead. She sat and waited, and refusing to lock into anyone eyes whose embrace she felt she might not like to share. The floor continued to revolve and many were seen to leave one embrace for another, and then another and another.

"My lovely lady-love of love, how have you been?" she heard him say in that accent of his. She could not know where he had heard or learned this from but it was certainly not his own. She had seen him here often enough, and she knew enough of that man who just spoke those words. It was probably some clap-trap from a rap. Regardless of how he had said it; she felt it was crass, tactless and definitely tasteless. Here was the surprise since despite all this she'd just heard, the woman in his arms burst into laughter and said "I have missed you too 'my lovely-guy'!", and they soon left their untidy chairs next to her and joined the dance floor.

She had deduced that obviously this guy knew his psychological profiling techniques better than many police inspectors or experts. He had managed, and mastered well his techniques in how to find his targets, a perfect match for his very imperfect panache. She cringed and laughed.

She laughed but she knew it was not because it was funny. It is very true however that some could disguise their perversity into making some clap-trap sound handsome and attractive, and it is of course all about the listener and not what it is that is being said.

This often occupied her mind. The fact that the movies formed everyone's ideals and perspective on love and personal charms. What everyone looks for is imprinted in their mind by the charm of some actor's 'movie accent' or some other kind of romanticist scam presented as a plot for love. That is all. Everyone loves what is bright and sparkles, even though it is none other than some 'razzle-dazzle'.

Not much else is often needed. That's what wins the trophies- either on someone's arms hanging for months to come or in sharing brief moments of happiness being squeezed-out, by some known-but-stranger's bed. Even a familiar face of a partner at home, be it a wife or a husband, waiting expectantly every night for the other's return; what keeps everything going is the making and maintaining of the 'razzle-dazzle' for their otherwise non-eventful life. That is why the show must go on.

In a moment of carelessness, nearly being lost by her, her thought turned away from the milonga floor and she remembered the woman who was admitted into her hospital. She was waiting to give birth. Perhaps before the night is out.

How can he be here instead of there? Does he not know? He was now whispering some more nonsense in some other woman's ear: "..... razzle-dazzle and bingo here we go!" - not exactly, maybe, but this is usually the total gist of what is being talked about.

In a moment of harshness, the reality of some logic hit her, "may be his mobile is switched off!"
she thought.

Should she go there and tell him? Is it her place to interfere? She is a nurse, that is all, and she came to know about his wife being there by simply an accidental meeting on that hospital ward. "Surely he is aware that his wife is about to..., and he can not be that ignorant of her being due, being so near her time" she continued to argue these in her mind.

He is clearly a slob, both in appearance and style but he seems always to have done his homework! "A failure in life" holding onto a 'treasure' like her- his wife, or that is what and how it seemed to everyone else around.

Life is funny and often it is like that. It is hard to ignore the irony: women always wish for a 'nice-loving-man' but constantly end up chasing after the man who is incapable of forming such emotion.

She did not want to get involved in other people's lives. Not her style. His wife is a patient of the hospital and not one of her own. At the hospital, they met each other as she was going through the ward, covering for a friend, "extra shift & extra pay", doing her rounds. In fact it was his wife who recognised her first. "You dance tango, don't you?"

This hospital is new, and situated in the south of the river. 'The South' that never feels like home. To her the word 'south' is still somewhere that is 'beyond'.

London, a city that is naturally divided by one river. Its two parts are joined by a few bridges. It is strangely divided in its existence by the very same river that used to be its main artery through all its life.

For London, it is simply a matter of 'North' and 'South'. It is not about the money nor it is its people; it is the very feel of the place. It is what Londoners will soon make any visitor understand: "One belongs to either the North or the South, and it is never possible to have roots in both sides."

She had lived most of her life on the North side of this divide. In fact she had never had to visit the South. As far as she was concerned the city ended its borders on the south side where it was met by the river's embankment.

In this she was not alone. Millions of Londoners live this way too. Even the taxi drivers choose to work either in the south or the north. For the taxis "
the city" is seen as the neutral zone, "the city", the financial heart of London, snugly sitting by the sides of the great divide, leaning to the north with an eye on the lenient south.

She travelled through this neutral zone, 'the city', day-in and day-out. It felt like she had to go through a clearing zone in order to arrive onto the South where she worked. New Job, New Hospital.

In the first few weeks she had felt like she had somehow failed and even betrayed her sense of belonging to the city that is now her '
home'. It had taken her many years to consider London her home. She now belonged and she felt that the city was hers too.

Life got really hard once she had decided to run roots. She needed more income to pay off all living costs that kept going up, soon reaching nearly beyond her limited pay. At the end of each month she had to choose something else that she had to also do without. To stretch her income to cover all, she had applied for that job in the South. It was selling-out but the job in the South offered her a small promotion, and therefore paid her little more, to pay for all those that she could no longer do without.

In many years that she had lived alone, she had learned to compromise. Her true wants had always been negotiated and waited for.

Away from her original home, she learned soon in her early teens that Life does not always give everyone choices. Life just offers different ways for entering into its revolving doors, leading only to one path out to all which is awaiting ahead.

There are never any true puzzles to solve, the question of 'which way to take?' is only one of many elements of an equation. To reach any answer we always arrive at the same probables, the path we choose to take is always the one that we assume is 'the nearly' certain rather than the little known. It takes great courage to go for the little known.

Regularly life offers choices, clear-cut choices, – but never one of the desired "easy-choices". The undetermined fluky outcomes and seemingly unintentional driving forces are the Life's way of teaching us the science of "playing dice" with the universe of ours.

She noticed he had stopped dancing with her. Two tandas and they were returning to the same table. She got up. Ready to go and tell him.

He noticed her coming forward, a wide grin appeared on his face. She knew he would misunderstand this approach the moment she had made it.

I need to tell you something, It is personal, could we please go to that corner?" she said this while pointing to a quiet corner of the milonga. He immediately disassociated himself from the woman he had been dancing with very intimately till a few moments ago and said "Personal? ...yes, I like the sound of that!". He said this not with a quiet volume but in a way that it could easily be heard by anyone standing near and around.

She managed to wriggle her arm out of his clasp without being seen for the physical struggle that it was, between him and her. He had neither given in nor given up hope so he put his other arm around her, scooping her lower back. She tolerated this impertinence and walked to the intended corner.

Well before he had opened his rehearsed amorous lines of desire and affection on her, she had to stop him making more of a fool of himself and making this communication as short and to the point as she could.

"You must go and see your wife tonight!"
- "My wife! Excuse me!?"
- "Yes your wife, she is probably in full labour by now, haven't you checked your mobile?"
- "My wife is in labour?", he looked totally confused by this and not sure if he had heard her right.
- "Yes, your wife, the one who is pregnant, unless there is another one, this one is in labour, and perhaps you want to get yourself there if that is 'OK'?! "

she was being sarcastic and enjoying him squirm with some trace of embarrassment as he processed the news that had just reached his now reality stricken brain.

He mumbled something quite indistinguishable in reply and went on his way.

She came back and sat down. She ignored the nosy looks that had followed him and her to that
corner and now shadowed her back to her seat. The confused looks on their faces at his hasty shamble of a departure, and her calm and collected state, these made the curiosity on their faces even more cause for her amusement. She felt wicked, and somehow she enjoyed it, this was the true cause for a smile forming on her face.

The man who had been sitting opposite her, right on the other side of the milonga floor, from the
beginning till now had not taken his casual glances off her. He saw her smile and interpreted it as enough of an encouragement for him to come forward. She had never danced with him before. She had seen him dance often to know how passionately he loved to express his love of tango.

No words were spoken, just a gentle nod, followed by faint friendly smiles. Maybe their masks were on, and maybe there was none between them. In few brief moments, as soon as the first song began, she felt wonderful. She was reassuring of her trust in him, and he made sure she also knew this same feeling by his welcome of her in his embrace. She had already closed her eyes and a perfect evening seemed to commence.

(....Private Dancer continues!)

A Short Tango Story by MilongaCat.

Monday, July 9


Sometimes everything is just perfect. A day, an afternoon.
Either by design or good luck (not fluke); a combination of everything comes together to form a perfect one.

This Sunday was one such day. A party in the heart of English country side.

Lovely Argentine tango tunes, in a long sunny afternoon, with square slabs of sunshine lighting up a comfortable wooden dance floor through tall windows standing high on one side of the walls, cool breezes travelling from the green and leafy surroundings outside the dance hall, no other interfering sounds of cars, traffic, people and all else that could spoil pleasures of listening to and dancing with the music being played inside the hall.

The scent and flavours of Earl grey tea, apple and other fruit pies, cheeses and red wine all welcoming the guests as they arrived from their journeys – mostly from far.

Some knew each other, good friends who meet regularly to dance in local milongas, some by name , some by sight. As hours went by everyone else had also made friends either among those whom they danced with, or met and enjoyed cheery conversations with.

As for dancing, I loved all my many tandas, some playful and cheeky: full of games and fun, a few tender ones warming our hearts - with distant memories or making new ones - many other dances filled with pure joy in embraces that intertwined with the melodies and beats of some unforgettable songs.

The hours past and pleasure of music, dances and chats in good company continued.

When the Sun set the evening began with the daylight fading gradually and more candles being lit. The air cooled, the doors were shut; dancing bodies warmed, embracing even closer - more tender. Fervouring hot tangos and fast milongas replaced and took over the more gentle afternoon's earlier tangos and valses. Perfectly timed.

Late in the evening when "the last 3" tango was announced by our dear host whom had also DJ'ed so many perfect tandas (all day long), it was a timely ending; punctuating the last of a lovely day and marking well what had already gone by.

In very good company of two other guests, traveling back to our homes, we talked of music and dance meanwhile my heart was full of joy, and my mind was still filled with some wonderful new memories of our summer tango party.

This was the party that I had nearly not wanted to go to just because it happened to be very far!

The only cat who loves you back!

Friday, July 6

Not Embracing Any Old Ashtrays

In tango scene where the proximity to dancing partners is intimate; the very fact that someone's scent - specially if the person is a smoker or non-smoker - always influences if one could dance, and enjoy a tanda with them.

One of my pet hates is to suffer the irritating unpleasant scent of tobacco on people's breath and cloths.

A reasonably simple decision for me to make was to usually avoid the smokers or at the very least not to knowingly choose to dance with those were seen puffing at a cigarette.

The difficulty however always remained that some milongas allowed Smoking in their main halls. This made the polluted air unavoidable. With the stale ashtray smell dispersing and spreading from many tables, some places did not differ much from any miserable smoky pub!

These were the norm until last Sunday. On the 1st of July, "The Total Smoking Ban" , in all public places, came into effect for all of the UK.

The difference this has made is incredible. The freedom to breath "Fresh Air" has been returned to all of us.

It is now a total pleasure to be able to dance in our milongas without having to suffer the proximity to those whose second hand smoke irritated our eyes, lungs, and managed to stink our hair, skin and cloths.

Smoking is Personal, and that is how I want us all to see it continue from now on, it is their addiction to smoke and therefore I am very happy not to have it done in our faces and lungs.

The only Cat who loves you back!

Thursday, July 5

Ganchos & Turkeys

No Ganchos and No Turkeys?!!!

In reflection, I only said "I don't like dancing close-embrace with frozen turkeys!"

Now, if all turkeys are gone(thawed and done!), and there is no fear of any ganchos to be done, can we not first begin with a tango?

Monday, July 2

MilongaCat is loved back!

It just goes to show that MilongaCat is also loved back...

I just had to share this with you and the rest....and "yes!", I am speechless but "Thank you dear!"

The only cat who loves you back!

Friday, June 29

Lonely Heart Breaks

It is not often. Seldom has it happened that two hearts break in one instant and for one and the same reason. If it is the consequence of an instantaneous madness, it needs to be highly contagious. This is never the case. Hearts break only when alone.

I have not yet seen a broken heart that was able to mend its hurt or to reverse. A broken heart may sometime forgive but it never forgets.

Curiously enough it is like that tale of an angel who falls to earth, the one who breaks a heart can never return to its heavenly place.

Falling out of love is no disgrace. It happens. It may be due to change: in him, her, life, needs, desires and wants and all other things that we care for and have nothing to do with the person to whom we once said "I Love You".

Whatever might be the case or cause, "love" is not a binding contract, it is more a matter of let's wait and see how it goes.

A stream that keeps going with the promise of one day reaching the sea is not always lucky to witness the waves or to be joined and engulfed in its eternity.

May be that is why Tango is such a bliss. It allows everyone a glimpse, and a foretaste of what it may be like joining the waves, being part of the sea.

In tango it is said there can be no "heart-breaks"; the tango is said to be a madness that is in fact bliss. That blissfulness is what makes it an addiction and no wonder that we find it to be contagious.

Tango is an affair but unlike the one in life - the one outside the milonga walls - this one carries with it a contract. It states: "The outcome is always known to parties involved, the tanda does end, the songs will each finish and non keeps getting repeated just for you or the one in your arms, and the embrace... well that one can either become a memory to keep someone in mind or at its worst one is allowed one's best to disregard and not to recall and this is no crime."

In our heart-of-hearts the truth is often different. In some rare occasions, there is that someone, the one who stirs a storm in our mind. The embrace would then feel like a hot desert whose burnt skin is being kissed, and caressed with pearl-droplets of rain. One can sense it, the touch, the scent, the feel, the conformity, and the care. The dream of our heart, the desert, being adorned by wild flowers in all colours of pink, blue, cyan, white, purple, and red - bloody red, will drive us away from our reality, we arrive at the edge, and someone keeps telling us to jump! Don't fear!

These combined create a blissful moment of unattainable perfection, and in our very imperfect lives this causes us sometimes to commit a mistake, by default. This is really no one's fault.

Once the actuality hits us again, and again, and....again the blissfulness leaves us and we feel drained, we pretend "It never happened".

Those longing glances across the floor, they become careless sometimes, and tell their own story: the tale of an angel who fell and does not know now how to return.

The only cat who loves you back!


One day we will be heard!
One day everyone will join us.

A bad gancho can really hurt!!!
The only cat who loves you back!

Tuesday, June 26

Not the Wagon But the Project!

In the gobbledygook of names and chaotic mess of the world's music scene, it is usually only the business men and their "party women" who keep track of music trends. They know the book of the "who is who?" and "what's its what?" better than the rest. The reason is simple, it is because they depend on their knowledge of the CD sales and/or the revenue of the ticket offices in which the fat ladies do not sing but dispense the extortionately priced tickets of the live gigs instead.

However there is an exception to the above here in the UK and that is when we have the annual good news of the awards on the World Music front. It is done by the station: Radio BBC3. This month it presented its awards for the World Music 2007.

The Radio BBC 3 offers a chance to its listeners to champion their choices or to familiarise and be introduced to what else is popular around the world. The mainstream music DJs and the influencers of trends and taste do take notice and often discover a taste for something very different that originates from the Global World Music rather than the western pop culture music channels which are the norm.

The competition has entries from all over the world. From Africa, Southern Europe, Latin America, Asia, Far East, Middle East, and many other distant lands as well as the fusion with the known popular western music.

What was surprising this year was that "Gotan Project" was nominated, and won under the Club Global entry (FRANCE/ARGENTINA).

Personally I believe that the contemporary tango dance-world owes a great deal to "The Gotan Project" and its music. Fortunately many who were in denials of this for the last few years and also dismissed the Gotan's music as sloppy fad have now all been proven wrong.

What is even more fascinating is how some dance "instructors" and "organisers" who till not long ago made very harsh and dismissive remarks about anything to do with NEW tango have now changed their tune. Many of them have now jumped on 'The Project' and its band-wagon. They run weekend and even week-long workshops on whatever they can sell with the terms of "Tango" and "New" combined. A suffix or prefix, with a few high kicks and " 'shebang': it is done!" and whatever the language these are spelled with and/or written in that does not matter - as long as it works. By the way this is not a complaint about them and the band-wagon they are now on - it is an observation. The complaint only belongs to those who part take in the projects, and if they like it then that is also fine.

There is however one specific comment I need to make here to distinguish that those who all said "Gotan" and "New" are all bad news, don't they need to say sorry to Gotan and alike? They have all suddenly discovered the pull of the currency and the "djering"to account, (...and guess what?) they proclaim to have been an expert on the NEW all along. These experts now tell us: "We always believed in them being great & fun!"

There can not be much surprise on these, the band-wagon is now running, "Jump On!" is what we will hear from these "New" experts from now on!

Maybe all those who revere and religiously advocate only one school of thought – be it in tango or in life in general– they often find themselves wrong footed, and lost at times. This is no exception either to that sum.

The bottom line is best here when I say that I am very pleased to see others join in, 'yes!', them too. It is about time that we all realise that there is no religiosity to tango, none! If money and its projects help to bring some around to this change, so be it. The tango is best when it is well mixed, the old, the young, the classics and the new.

Once again let us congratulate the winners of this year: "Gotan Project"- Number 1 in their own category. If you like to enjoy their music: live on stage, here is their link from BBC Radio 3.

The only cat who loves you back!

Friday, June 22


Whatever enters my mind can not be tossed aside.

But the thought therein; I can not confront.

What shall I do when I'm unable to scream for you?

- Separation,
- Separation,
Free me from this separation!

Whatever language's spoken;
Separation exists;
(From an Azarbaijani folk song.)

Big hearts speak the same language wherever we listen. In all of our little world, there exist only one truth: "the innocence of it all".

The only cat who loves you back!

Saturday, June 16

Today, tonight, and this dawn!

Today I phoned. She was not home. "My love, I miss you so much, as I have done for these many years" I said.

Today I phoned. He was not home. "My love, I miss you so much, as I have done for these many years" I said.

Maybe she was asleep. Maybe he was saying a prayer in the chapel.

Maybe one was, and maybe not the other...

"Before the Dawn"
by Federico Garcia Lorca

But like love
the archers
are blind

Upon the green night,
the piercing saetas
leave traces of warm

The keel of the moon
breaks through purple clouds
and their quivers
fill with dew.

Ay, but like love
the archers
are blind!

Tonight she phoned. I was not home. "My love, I miss you so much, as I have done for these many years" the message said, "Maybe you are asleep! Are you? oh well!, maybe you are not there." and here the message ended.

Today he phoned. I was not home. "My love, I miss you so much, as I have done for these many years" this was the message he wished he had said, instead the message read: "Maybe you are asleep! Are you? oh well! maybe you are not there."

Still dark, but the dawn is not far away, I know. That is when I got home.

I have exhausted my body in tango and my feet are sore. I can not resist it: cheering up my soul further by watching the sun rise. Another dawn.

They must both be awake by then; it would be a blast of joy to find them both at home.

I will phone them a little while after this morning's sun-rise. They may be getting old, but sometimes they, too, wake up early, and talk of missing those they love till dawn.


Thursday, June 14

Priority & Option

“Never allow someone to be your priority while allowing yourself to be their option”
....but some of us never learn!

The only cat who loves you back!

Monday, June 11

Saturday Paseo

do not grow in the sea
neither is there love in Sevilla.
You in Dark and the I the sun that's hot,
loan me your parasol.

I'll wear my jealous reflection,
juice of lemon and lime-
and your words,
your sinful little words-
will swim around awhile.

do not grow in the sea,
Ay, love!
And there is no love in Sevilla!

Saturday Paseo: Adelina by
Federico Garcia Lorca

Sunday, June 10

The Vampires of Love

She had walked in, totally innocent it seemed. He had watched her from the moment she came in. He had chosen her and she did not know that she had entered his game, his world, and soon she'd be playing something that she would be concurrently a participant and the trophy for.
Since it was the norm from the moment any human finds cognition of life, in parallel there begins a deep desire also for love, he therefore believed there existed no woman or man, either young or old, who would refuse to welcome a drink from this sweetest of charming poisons of all: "love".

He would offer her this burning gift in a scrumptious looking chalice: an embrace. His embrace ensured there was never a wasteful chase, his new victim would be delivered to him not long after she was spell-bound and had her eyes closed. She would be captured. She would become another - one other belonging to that tribe - just as soon as the pleasure of his passionate poison sank into her heart.

He never felt any shame, neither regret nor one moment of indecision for spreading his fixation, his passion and obsession of this game. New victims were just another recompense for having had his soul penetrated by his transgression for wanting the feeling of 'love'. That was how he was himself captured and imprisoned.

He did not belong to any priesthood, but amongst these "Vampires of Love", he was always gentle and seemed kind. This distinguished him from them and all.

He took her into his arms, with care, passionate, accompanied with gentleness and warmth. These were his known charm. She hesitated briefly at first, stopped and confessed to what had been one of the reasons he had chosen her for: "I have never done this before!" He smiled at her and reassured her that all will soon be fine. Her scent, smile, and warmth of touch had made him more determined to see her captured and won by him alone.

He knew he was being scrutinised and watched by all those who sit, watch, and circle the hunt. Some would wish to be her, in her place, and some others would wish him to fail. All these made his seek of his pleasure more intense, strong, and he knew he would succeed, he always had in the past therefore would and will have any times.

Soon she would experience 'the touch' – and the shining stars that she never thought she could reach to touch, would be hers to hold - remarkable, incredible, the poison of love through touch always succeeds if it is done right; a mystery like no other in the universe of physics.

He knew exactly how and what she would feel. The awakening of her soul to the pleasures of surrender; allowing love to be seeded within her, and to let it grow by feeding it these crazy turns and moves unlike any she had before. She would forever feel the pleasure that got under her skin this evening.

Soon she learned how to harmonise, to change from within, to give in through control, and bind herself to an emotion that came to live in her soul . Her metamorphosis had begun - he knew this and continued to carry her further along - the transmutation of the shy and the inhibited girl to a beautifully unrestrained woman. Now she wanted to live this new person: gregarious, to enjoy more; she concentrated and tried harder to become akin, closer and one with him.

She began to feel herself gently moulded, she did not object but in fact allowed herself melt further into his chest, into his warm embrace, the longer it passed the closer she held him. She wished more of him to touch hers, she did not know what it looked nor did she care. Her smiles told other "vampires of love" that she had become his, his new addicted victim of "love" - gradually their eyes were averted from him and her, the hunt was over and the prey was no longer.

In some moments of playful rest she looked up, started to talk but would not let or want herself to part his hold. She was told by him not to express her "thanks", "the pleasure was all mine" he said. She laughed and said "but how could you possibly mean or think that? This feels great; you gave me this gift, something I have never had!"

She had walked into this place - totally innocent maybe! - she was no longer expecting herself to remain as that. Into this tribe she was initiated by him: a man who insisted not to be of any priesthood; amongst "the vampires of love" he was the one who enjoyed being gentle and kind.

She would never experience a similar sensation after this night, not even by him to equate anything she had sensed tonight. He knew this since he could also remember the evening and the woman from whom he took the chalice and drank the poison.

The only cat who loves you back!

Friday, June 8

You Remain

As a perfume doth remain
In the folds where it hath lain,
So the thought of you, remaining
Deeply folded in my brain,
Will not leave me; all things leave me -
You remain.

Other thoughts may come and go,
Other moments I may know
That shall waft me, in their going,
As a breath blown to and fro,
Fragrant memories; fragrant memories
Come and go.

Only thoughts of you remain
In my heart where they have lain,
Perfumed thoughts of you, remaining,
A hid sweetness, in my brain.
Others leave me; all things leave me -
You remain.

"You Remain" by :
Arthur Symons (
1865 - 1945)