Over the past two years, I have been on the road touring about 18 months. I am incredibly grateful for those adventures and the stories and people I found out there, but now I need to sit and watch and think and wait.
Next it was the turn of the Argentine tango musician who played tangos so sad they were funny. He only came home to sleep and that was never at night. In Madrid, there are so many better places to be than at home on a summer night.
She dances through life, moving from partner to partner with such even-handed grace that no one takes affront. The lovers, men and women, cling to her, lose themselves happily in her world. The frankness of her gift is such that they all understand.
As the afternoon sun drops lower, the timbre of the light deepens, throwing a soft golden blanket over the two of us. All I want now is for her to sleep while I stay with her under a summer sun that settles on the horizon without ever dissolving into the ocean.
But probably he admired her more for letting that surly old husband of hers back for the last years of his life, swiping away with that slender, braceleted hand whatever had come between them once.
As an adolescent, I prayed to be made wise, but now, knowing the price one will pay for such insolence, I regret my words. I could have asked for riches or a long life or many children – but no, I had to ask for wisdom.