I would listen to this beautiful music with my eyes closed, visualizing my moves. I used to play this music to the painting of Jesus I did, I seeing him march out of the wilderness towards the place where humanity dwell, but, he never arrives. Marilyn, was the love of my life. We put this large painting over her bedroom window, the yellow ochre sky and the black sun, illuminated, my dusty, dusty bearded man, his inner journey, his fathomless soul – intercepted.
Today, Marilyn turns sixty five. On this day I give to you the Balero, a younger man dances, but, my soul will forever be younger, because there was you, my beloved audience, the only audience I ever need.