There is one useless mood in the world: melancholy.
But don't alarm. The streets of Buenos Aires are built on it.
There is one century of history walking down the lost avenues of "Caminito", probably the most regarded place of Tango.
You can hang out with local dancers, musicians, luthiers, and listeners.
You can deeply breath the taste of a violin, making you feel up and down, twisted by an enormous amount of lost love, sick sights, and scented poetry.
Once I met a guy with a vague posture, staring at the river "Río de La Plata". He told me that everything was fallen for him: no job, no money, no dear ones...
But he had the bless of Tango.
He drop his cigarre and started humming a melody of Astor Piazzolla. He was funny. Thin, tall, dark clothes...
He moved his legs, little by little, his face became a littl' more colorful, he had a small spark of cheerfulness. But I will be honest: nothing can change his destiny.
He said: 'Dude, no worries about the future. We are not stepping over an ignored land. Make this Tango sink you, forgive you, maybe the River will make you feel alive, and that's it".
I was surrended. He was stepping over the rule of Tango: spontaneous friendship with a strange face in Argentina.