one more

dear diary,

near the end of the milonga, only a handful of people left. lomyl had already taken her shoes off. the next tanda, and the music was beautiful. we were so tired. so sleepy. how could we leave now? we agreed to dance just one more tune. then, the next song was just as wonderful. we danced again. then, another.

we changed into our street shoes. near the exit, he said goodbye to us, and said, "you two look great."

a part of me, the part that still struggles with "more steps is more macho," still doesn't know how to process this compliment. a number of people have given us these kind words. and every time, i wonder why they say it.

for over six months, i have focused on walking, and occasionally, ocho. on the floor, in the sea of twirling frenzy, i am the one walking the basic counts, over and over and over again. once in a while, when the music takes over my spirit, strange and glorious steps appear from nowhere. and then, back to walking.

i confess, i keep feeling that followers must think i am a boring leader. even when they tell me about the fun they have with me, i don't believe them.

sigh.