Prologue to a Tango

It always starts with a bizarre, mysterious silence. I fear to break it. It seems to be a foreplay of something yet to unfold. An act of truth and fantasy, drama and comedy. I sense a dazzling mirror of my presumed or real mistakes. I am suddenly part of it. Not just as a spectator. I have been dragged into a role regardless of my consent. An already written role that I am expected to play out. The stage is set. The show has begun. I have to address the call now. But whatever I will do, I will always remain an outsider.