Revisiting (and novelizing) Tango Fire

In late January of this year, my husband and I escaped to the city, an adventure I wrote about here.  We were there to see an extraordinary troupe of tango dancers who were taking their show, Tango Fire, around the world and had stopped for the afternoon in Philly.  Later that evening, at Amada, I turned and saw the dancers behind me—these marvelous, acrobatic creatures out of costume and laughing and willing, as it turned out, to let me sit briefly among them.

Such odd and beautiful conjunctions are not easily forgotten, and lately I've been writing the scene into this adult novel of mine—changing winter to summer and evening to morning and rearranging the dancers' heights, but not their spirits.   

There is no need to inflate their generosity.