Dance me ... till the end of love

Sursa foto

Au dansat o viata intr-o noapte, cand muzica curgea pe fundal, fara sa-i pese cuiva cine o canta, cand lumea se invartea in jur buimaca, iar lor nu le pasa ce isi spuneau intre ei.

A fost vals, sau tango, sau vreun dans lent, cu miscari suave, in care simturile se combinau haotic pentru a crea magia? A fost vis, sau realitate, au fost ei, sau altii?

Suntem liberi sa ne imaginam orice, cu farama aia de amintire ascunsa undeva adanc, sa ne imaginam ca am fost noi sau altii, ca dansul a fost un inceput sau un sfarsit, ca intr-o alta lume povestea a continuat de-acolo si a ajuns departe, in pagini de roman celebru.

Dansez pe sfarsitul povestii, cu un ochi plans si unul ascuns, cu un obraz rece si unul fierbinte, cu gandul macinat de intrebari si cu o duzina de raspunsuri pe care le ignor rotindu-ma continuu pe muzica aia dementa, hipnotizanta, pe care nici macar nu mi-o mai amintesc. Ma mangai cu gandul ca ai uitat, sau ca nici macar nu (ma) stiai. Pana la urma, ce mai conteaza, un dans in plus, cand viata ne roteste mereu cum vrea ea?

Ritmul? Ni l-am impus! Pasii? I-am inventat! Muzica? Nici nu conta, am dansat nebuni si in pauze!

O viata intr-un dans, un singur dans intr-o viata.

***

They danced for a lifetime in one night, when the music flowed in the background, no one cared who was playing it, when people were milling around buoyantly, and they didn't care what they said to each other.

Was it a waltz, or a tango, or some slow, smoothly moving dance where the senses combined chaotically to create magic? Was it dream, or reality, was it them, or others?

We are free to imagine anything, with that shred of memory hidden somewhere deep, to imagine that it was us or others, that the dance was a beginning or an end, that in another world the story continued from there and went far away, into the pages of a famous novel.

I dance on the end of the story, with one eye watering and one hiding, one cheek cold and one hot, with my mind consumed with questions and a dozen answers that I ignore by spinning continuously to that insane, hypnotic music that I don't even remember. You tease me with the thought that you've forgotten, or that you didn't even (know) me. After all, what does it matter, one more dance, when life always spins us around as it wills?

The rhythm? We imposed it on ourselves! The steps? I invented them! The music? It didn't even matter, we danced madly in the breaks!

A lifetime in a dance, one dance in a lifetime.