The Mid-Game of Tango

'The aggression of the white side in chess,' El Generoso is saying, 'is balanced by the patience of the black side.'

He leads me in a quick forward ocho that he adorns with a rapid kick and a tiny sacada as Mony Lopez' Alaridos en silencio accelerates into its own divisions into extremes.

La migaja y el banquete

la quietud y el huracán

Soy un hueco en pleno cielo

soy el sueño y el desvelo

soy el hambre y soy el pan.

(I am) the crumbs and the banquet

the quiet and the hurricane

I am emptiness in the middle of the sky

I am the dream and the wakefulness

I am hunger and I am bread.

'There is only tango when there are opposites,' says El Generoso, and I want to melt into his beautiful eyes. Instead, at the top of his salida, I stop him with my foot and look into his eyes.

He laughs out loud at the challenge, at the pleasure he takes in my boldness. I am asking him to release his control and let the initiative fall to me. I am asking him to allow me to move his body wherever I please.

'Chess,' says El Generoso, 'only becomes interesting at the mid-game when black sees an opening and pursues it.'

He consents to the pleasure of the journey I propose to him.