Tonight we saw a flamenco show at Prospect Park. It made me cry. The passion in the world. The love. Such beauty. Why we have to destroy each other, ourselves, I will never understand. A woman danced the bull fight, her skirt the matador's cape. She ended thrusting the sword into the crowd. Not an actual spear but you could feel the triumph, the death in the final thrust of her arm. Serious. Stern. Fatal. I cried four or five times over. Crazy. I cried for love lost, for love yet to be found, for that which never will be.
Thursday, July 12, 2007
Passion
I'm having dinner with 3 Russians. Pardon, one Russian, two from Uzbekistan, I think. Not sure of the spelling there...Maria just mentioned a Russian friend of hers who comes to NYC to drop cash. It's apparently so cheap here. WHAT?!? This woman is "nouveau-Russian." Hmm. Maria and I met on the Canon del Colca hike outside Arequipa, Peru.
Tonight we saw a flamenco show at Prospect Park. It made me cry. The passion in the world. The love. Such beauty. Why we have to destroy each other, ourselves, I will never understand. A woman danced the bull fight, her skirt the matador's cape. She ended thrusting the sword into the crowd. Not an actual spear but you could feel the triumph, the death in the final thrust of her arm. Serious. Stern. Fatal. I cried four or five times over. Crazy. I cried for love lost, for love yet to be found, for that which never will be.
Tonight we saw a flamenco show at Prospect Park. It made me cry. The passion in the world. The love. Such beauty. Why we have to destroy each other, ourselves, I will never understand. A woman danced the bull fight, her skirt the matador's cape. She ended thrusting the sword into the crowd. Not an actual spear but you could feel the triumph, the death in the final thrust of her arm. Serious. Stern. Fatal. I cried four or five times over. Crazy. I cried for love lost, for love yet to be found, for that which never will be.
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