Motionless

Movement is good.
Stillness is better.

Do not move.
Learn how
to be still.

Do not move.
Teach the body
who is the Master.

If you can be still,
the key of power
is yours.

Then, and only then,
movement will be
like a butterly,
flitting from
flower to flower.

Do not move, I say.

Then you will learn
that stillness
is the very center
of movement.

Flamenco

After clean White, the Rainbow of colors.

But, at the end, the most vital of them, the seal of perfection, Red. Not a dull, obtuse red, a glowing red instead, purplish, brimming with unlimited, unspoiled Life.

Red, like sacrificial blood.

Red, like endless passion.

Red, like blazing fire.

Red, like Gypsies Flamenco.

Waltz

Black. Always. Where else can one start?

Dark is the Prima Materia, and to the darkest black shall we veer, resolute and firm.

But, after that blackest of blacks, pure White emerges, unexpected, bright, clean, lunar white.

Like a dove in the morning.

Like hope and grace in the midst of despair.

White.

It is waltz time.

Tango

Why this fascination with Tango? Because its basic color is black. There is a fundamental rigidity in its steps, almost rigor mortis.

And yet, it is not dull rigidity, but the display of control.

Passion channelled by control.

Magic of separation.

Poetry of delay.

I love Tango.