A mid-summer night. The bower in full bloom, large wooden tables, a liquor.
Whispers all around you, the party is merry. The soft music in the background gets gradually louder. A crescendo. A glass, another glass. Ron y miel. Inebriating, amber nectar. Inebriating as the smell of the blooming jasmine, carried along by the warm summer gusts. A crescendo. You meet her gaze – she whispers a couple of words. You spot it – it is Lunfardo. Your forehead drenched with sweat. Salt melts in the sugar of the liquor. The shuffling Gotan rhythm makes you brave, the night and the tango are on your side. A crescendo. Deafening summons. The air gets even hotter. You are aware it will hurt you. Yet you can’t resist.
You stand up and head towards the dance floor… her face lights up with a smile that brightens the night… That is all you long for, now.
A warm and sensual perfume. Intense crescendo. Amber nectar.