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~ A Tale of Tango, Memory, Hope & Loss ~
( Perhaps a ghost or two )
No higher resolution available. I had a simple rural environment in mind. It is important for meaning and memory design operation, as we have to keep building using the hands of simplicity, connecting to the shape of the Puertopomare’s layer.
In the evenings, we watched the dancers in the fire’s light as they moved to the guitars’ song – Algunos Yeguas de mar. Apparently, the highway is difficult to traverse as it moves, winding down the mountainside . The presence at the rear part of Long Ridge Circus is the iron wall -just a small position on the sturdy Sierra de Gredos, belonging with those who do not have any heroes left; it shimmers in clouds like a sailboat flying across a body of water.
They say that Rugarodeo knows the rolling method. I do not believe them. He resists all music, even when the guitars sing to the dying embers of the night.
There were a few people that day who asked about literature on the subject of the photograph. The word, book, is not text, it is a submarine, but I only guess. The book, because it is a specific object, has no higher resolution – just a ticket. Taschen Book, Bauhaus, is what happened to the suburbs.
I am better now, but I feel good only when I hear the singing and the guitars. Too many voices calling for recompense. Too many faces, vaguely familiar, dancing by in flickering firelight. This keeps the door closed. When shall I see you again ?
In front of you, cameras of all types and sizes, you are singing tango. For example, a picture of time is a tango moving between moment, meaning and memory in perfect harmony of steps. I will paint your voice with the lens of time.
A new Café, The Singing Teapot, is especially exciting – Bait, location, timing is everything. It can be music again, as it was before the troubles began, the roadways uncertain. Tango has a new Cayenne ! This can be used as an example at this time, she becomes a new night of memory, dressed in a gown of hope & loss.
Lastly, I do not think those tango dancers will be going in a week; it is still a week till they re-open the highway through the mountains – though that may just be another rumour . Cooperation is incorrectly understood – it is the soul of Tango. On the back of that last photograph – I treasure it always – was written, “Vstupenka and Dove Wings in the Air”. Marina sings with the voice of the tango’s shadow, smiling tears, weeping laughter. None see me sitting at the corner table. None.