I said hi and she said hi back to me. The last and only time we danced was, according to my recollection, disappointing. To her.
I was nervous since I had seen her dance before. She was obviously a gifted dancer. I could not connect and figure out her style. Nothing in that dance “connected” to me. Not with the music, not with her. My mind had been haunted already with the images of her confidence dancing with great dancers. I could not shake that off. The dance was not our dance, it was someone else’s, badly impersonated. A sad affair.
She remembered me. She remembered me as a person.
In the milonga world there are dancers and amazing human beings that love to dance. I admire the latter. I am grateful she reminded me of that.