Most of us live as fictionalized versions of ourselves; not who we really are but who we’d like to be.

For three minutes, the dancers of the tango allow the music to transport them into another world; one of their own creation. Imagined moments …. the stud, the seductress, the prostitute, the cuckold seeking retribution with the much-younger woman who delights in his touch. I watch these fictionalized characters come to life in their faces, in their bodies as they succumb to the seductive rapture of the syncopated rhythms.

How do they allow themselves to be touched, to be embraced, to adore and be adored by a stranger? It’s the most intimate exchange two people can do in public …. and I am the voyeur. I envy their acts of sudden intimacy.