Tango To Evora
The artistic way of life consists in the fact that in one single trait is represented to us alive and fully what, in its absence, could never be represented.
I am waiting for him in the strain of a silent silence, which for a painter could be the equivalent of the sublime. But he only appears in the sadness of a continuous deception, in the doubt of questions that, same as trees, break under the weight of their fruit. I want him, I admire him, I envy him. I try to remind him of the ardor of an artist looking for content, and he avoids me beyond the ingenuity of a time that seems to be stubborn to have no sense or direction.
Because he is dead and I have contributed to this dishonorable act for which the great lawmaker, God, accuses me without the mercy of a man who deserves a second chance. A tear is pounding on the cheek of the one to whom destiny dealt a heavy blow, suggesting that anguish never totally defeated, but which steals parts of me, making beauty be uninteresting.
The remorseful soul trying to say what my conscience whispers in the kinetics of an immense poetic world: mea culpa, by inclination of a journey in time seemingly lacking the geography of the heart. Thus, stopping myself, fearlessly, at a spiritual distance, when guilt turns its face to forgiveness – the worst love of all, stealing a little from the moment of depression, I cast a last decisive look on life.
Leadership: Do you build a new chance to correct your past by letting yourself get caught in the intimate core of an experience centered on thinking of the accused who recognizes his guilt?
The glass I hold in my hand, almost trembling, what seems at first sight a scenario weighed by my subconscious, belongs to a woman who could not defeat her pride, a compensatory model of the strange universe, more than that of Stephen Hawking, from which there is no initiative to take over.
I mumble the chorus of an area of unbearableness, the mischief that foolishness accepts as a trophy. The dry lips, untouched by the scent of a temptation, show the point of maximum altitude of the end. I close my eyes and try to cancel the effect that His forgetfulness has upon me. The eyes of the color of a leaf taken by the wind, almost endeared by the shame of the humility I subjected myself to, like the feeling of total helplessness, would like to symbolize the exteriorization of inner pain.
The clock is no longer showing the time of happiness, but it tightens my delicate hand like a moral vise.
Suffering is the doubt you are dealing with a remorse that can give a new meaning to your inner world.
A shadow falls on the table, enveloping rotten hopes with a warm thaw of enthusiasm. The stranger, who is no longer a foreigner in the next second, touches my hand, like a primordial addition, making me sigh. Why do I need to know you, when can I just feel you? Why do I feel you when I just want to watch you?
The music of the eye cancels the silence of the mind. The sublime component of my nature is exhausted by the long-awaited expectation and disappointed by an ego that turns immovably into the sky of an echoless love. What a shame that such inconsistency of content may be alongside such unnecessary perfection of dreaming towards "then and there". I smile. I’m glad you’re resurrected, my dear.
Leadership: What is the meaning of self-expression on the general background of a context that forms the situation appropriate to the finesse of the feeling to recognize your dark side in the admiration manifested towards a pure conscience?
The amount of self-denial released through the reaction of annoyance suddenly gains a new turn, transforms into a form of energy, namely the energy of motion. Let’s dance, Tango !
What demonic lusts unleashes in the thirst of breathing a new adventure ! The phrases of the resultant distance and the moment of the unexpected forces of pressure, both climb on the podium of the magnetization current. Forces change their meaning, attract through the magnetism of a sweet despair at the ends of an energy flux generator that indicates the position in time and space of the cause of a new throb in the soul.
Again, only his, touched and traversed by the thrill of a space where the sound of energy-filled music has not gone through for quite some time. If only I would remain the only desire in the pure soul of the artist who knows how to complement the fragmentary character of the moment, building from disparate traits an elegant totality.
I see him as a resurrected enemy of the dead, killed by my terrible vanity combined with jealousy, with the fierceness of sin of not believing in the art of a miracle. But this enemy is, after all, my husband. I kill him and I adore his unexpected resurrection. Only tango is sensitive to the truth of my life.
And in these meaningful rotations, which the artist’s sensitivity masterfully places in tango, on the rhythms of an intense feeling, worthy of an impressive predestination, we see Belinski’s law of creation:
The character, being the expression of an entire universe distinct of individuals, must be at the same time a certain individual, a whole, individual. Only with this condition can it become a typical figure, by reconciling these contraries. The artistic way of life consists in the fact that in one single trait it is represented to us alive and fully what, in its absence, could never be represented.
Is the feature that defines you the dualism that you propose between the reality marked by the inferior disappointment driven by the primal instincts, and the tenderness of the superior man led by understanding, maturity, lucidity and self-acceptance?
The ego needs to be approached in the sense of a shadow of consciousness when you fail to rise from your own pain. Or it can be approached in the sense of anchoring in an ardent passion to keep up the rhythm of the curiosity that makes you want to know and discover more about the one next to you.
Tango To Evora is the rhythm that lifts the cry of soul trepidations: "to suffer or die". Dance, as a form of manifestation of the private initiative to forget any annoyance, begins slowly with grace and aplomb, from amazement to pleasantly surprised. And there is a continued alert throughout the area of a remembrance of what my necessarily be directed towards the inside.
Ending the dance is sensational by giving up what the old man is, whom vanity and pride have condemned to failure, somewhere in the middle of nowhere.
