Remolino Dreams (Warsaw, Poland)

After days of surfing on the crest of the marvellous Remolino wave, this evening the reality caught up with me upon returning from the local milonga in Helsinki. All of a sudden I feel like a piece of driftwood washed ashore after the tide has withdrawn, or a fish tossed on dry land by a particularly powerful wave.
There is no denying it. Although they are still dancing in L'viv as I write this, for me it is over now, and all that is left are the memories: the snippets of conversations remembered, the sensations of embraces still felt, the sight of people so immersed in the pleasure of shared beauty.
There are funny memories too: laughing and crying at the same time at the midnight madness of simply having to go back to the milonga despite the exhaustion, the Ukrainian pronounciation exercises by drunken friends after-milonga, oh, and the
big-bellied man with the three pick-up lines...
The most powerful and lasting memories are, without a doubt, the moments of unity, love and understanding that left me feeling immensely fortunate and deeply grateful. It is really true what they say: Remolino is one of the Seven Wonders of the (Tango) World.

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