Well, she´s certainly no spring chicken anymore.

Has gotten many scratches in her life.

But she´s got power. You can see that immediately. A real bundle of energy.
When she kicks off - Mamma mia! A real Italian!

She´s from Sicily. As far as I know they are rather small and stocky there.

Actually, she is how I imagine a real Milonga dancer.
Maybe I should try it, to dance a Milonga with her. Yet, on that floor? You risk to break your legs.

So I better take it slow. Step by step. No Tango Nuevo. No chance to do that.

What´s now? We´re way too fast. She runs away from me. Completely out of rhythm.

Who´s the leader here?

Just don't get nervous now. Don't mess around with your arms. It only gets her off track.

Calm! Lead consciously with your body. Yes, that's how it works.

One step to the left, one to the right. Certainly we won´t perform beautiful ochos that way.
After all, we are now pushing along calmly.

If only she wouldn't wheeze so loud. Impossible to hear the music.

For that she now plays the coquette. Drops some part ever so often. Hopelessly old-fashioned and so obvious.
It's best not to go into it at all. Who knows what comes out of it.

What now? She just stops. Abruptly. She won´t go on. Nothing I can do about it? Nothing at all?
Nothing at all.

The end of the song: oil filter gone. Exhaust pipe demolished. Starter blocked.
My motor milling machine is on strike.

Meaning I have to dig over the vegetable beds by hand again!