This name isn’t mine! it was a hundred a thousand all of them mine it was body and womb and voice it had neighbors it whistled it was diurnal and nocturnal it was a god. 

This passage that came from the poem A single Numberless Death. Reminded me greatly of the tango show that we as a group just attended. They danced with such grace, and seemed to be at peace while doing it. I connected the two things because no one that was dancing seemed to be weighed down by the hardness that comes with living life. Like the poem said the voice is not theres, and listening to the woman sing she sounded as if she was singing to the world rather than the people in the room. Overall the show was something to express gratitude, freedom, and the joy of still being on this world.