Tango...bursts upon you at the corner, when you least expect her...

She moves in and out, sliding her shoes on the dazzling dance floor; her knees encounter momentary hiding places between the legs of her gallant male partner; sometimes she seems to hang seductively from firm macho hips. Tango must be a woman, although they say it is a ’machista’ dance because the lady must take orders from the man. She is in dance halls, she whines on the radio, in record stores...perhaps that young girl with the bag over her shoulder is headed for a ’milonga.’ You might also find her on naive wall paintings, such as this one at Belgrano avenue and Bolivar street...