It is late in this night of remembrance, and Dark Eyes commands the stereo. Only a few couples still dance in this early morning of tango, and their tastes delightedly devolve into the scratchy wavering of the Vieja cumparsita.
At the first notes, someone laughs at the abundant familiarity of the song. The dancers show off, and shadows of quick boleos and sweeping colgadas are thrown onto the walls of the tiny dim ballroom.
'This was the first song I ever danced to,' says Dark Eyes. 'Buenos Aires. The woman was generous. With her, I could do anything.' The song comes to its end ... también me dejó He sighs. 'Sometimes I am compelled to play this song.'
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