the perfect tango

last tango in paris
it's a constant and rhythmed crescendo.
it concerns the circle of death and rebirth.
dance must become everything in order to dance perfectly.
dancers need to cancel themselves to resurrect together.
the tango tells about love and identity, avoiding the problem of giving definitions.
a perfect parenthesis, with no words ("there's no name here"),
far from the bourgeoise prejudice about having a past and a role in society.
dance and contact create a story that needs no words to be told.
passion fades into extreme sweetness.

the city, complex and stratified, holds together different pieces of a story.
the city reveals itself to the eyes of people walking through it,
moved by invisible forces, step by step, as in a secret dance.
every route has its own features, it exists in time,
it can be linear and growing as the perspective surrounding of a boulevard,
or else stretched and incoherent, through the narrow alleys of mont martre.
or a course into the bowels of earth, with the restless throbbing of the pipes and the metro,
and suddenly the light above, the glass pyramids of the louvre.
these routes cross a paris which becomes the background for hidden intentions and secret views.
the city has different streets and different dominants for everyone.
this subtle texture made of impressions and memories results in a four-movement synthesis:
approach, silence, contamination, dance.