What is a milonga, if not a microcosm, a place for collective recreation?

It makes me think of the rhythmic movement of ensnared bodies and the pervasive flow of sound, the simultaneity, the concordance of vibration and the motion induced by the melody.
Without choreography, more or less consciously, the dancers weave a narration.
They interpret freely within the reassuring tracks of a method and a code they are supposed to respect.
Steps and gestures are words of a universal language, but each has its personal reference glossary.

The encounter and the interweaving of spaces of individual solitudes, in the succession of unique moments, reshape and transfigure the cave that houses them.

Everyone participates independently and dynamically in the creation of a collective and shared work, by giving its own expressive and creative contribution.
Many times I have seen these effects, identical and obvious everywhere. The burden of daily worries and concerns is left behind, as it is not so heavy at the end of the evening, though still not forgotten.
(just like the piles of shoes that lie in milongas around the world. The tools of that, it seems incredible, are not reclaimed by their carefree owners)
The ebb of the glances, darts and halberds.
The change into a smile of dark and suffering stretches.
Here lies the value of the artistic experience.
This is its regenerative, therapeutic force.
This value and a force is well known by the multitude of tango dancers.