Coming to terms...

Yesterday I watched 27 comparsas file past my spot at on calle Carlos Quijano, at the intersection where Carlos Gardel becomes Isla de Flores. Because I went alone, I didn't worry with taking a camera, and it was much easier to focus when the event wasn't filtered through a tiny digital screen. I left before the final 14 groups because I was beginning to lose a sense of the rhythm; my ears were drained.

In the previous post I said things had changed, and that remains true. I needed yesterday; those Llamadas. Even if it was just a reminder of why I fell in love with candombe.