31 December 2007. Mild winter sun, ripply shadows in dark windows, Kathmandu reflected in reverse, white letters on a red-oxide field, twining narrow branches of sidewalk tree overlapping, grayed-pink wall above. Unrequited.
Adentro. The stories of Mansilla, set on the Pampas. Cacique Ramón, Mariano, Baigorrita... Tierra adentro, o quizás el desierto. Today, in the north: two engaging substitutes: El Dúo Coplanacu. Guitarra y bomba--the large hide-covered Argentine drum, held at the side of the waist, played with pungent tamped-down sound: muffled feet in rustic shoes on an earthen floor. Their faces, half-smiling, eyes alert, touches of gray in their beards...
Half a century before. La Plata, a theater stage, worn wooden boards, dust clouding the air at each pounding wave of footsteps. Dark boots of the dancers--baile folklorico--a warm-up act--naive and good-hearted, the best of intentions...giving it their all...
The past re-enlivened, the dance...
No comments:
Post a Comment