Saturday, January 17, 2009

Dance me to the end of love

He was patient and she was 25.

To him, she was a partner new to the dance, still finding her steps in the flow of the tango. The leading and following, the give and take. He paused when she anticipated, gently bringing her back into the delicate space between them. Hold and collect. Adjusting her balance as they stepped together. He was patient as she learned feel and timing, the rhythm and play of being with another.

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