Gold leaf design, rich oak decor, a crystal chandelier suspended above a parquet dance floor. Tuxedoed men with white teeth and broad shoulders slanted over slinky women in spangly red dresses. She pictured tango parlors as chic, expensive, and European. Malevos was nothing like that. It was a hovel. Located in the basement of a century-old building, the milonga looked like it had fallen into disrepair at least ninety years ago. Once-mighty cornices had weathered, cracked, and fallen off. Green weeds sprouted from little runnels of dirt that had collected in the edges of the ornamentations. Ainsley followed Gabriel and his mother down into the moldy basement. At the front door, Valentina handed her coat to a check girl inside a long, narrow closet. Gabriel noticed Ainsley’s hesitance. “What’s the matter?” “It’s just… dirty.” “Traditional tango halls always have been.
What do You think about The Argentina Rhodochrosite?
