"If you can feel pain, you're alive. If you can feel the pain of others, you are human." Tolstoy If music were to have a language, it would have to be Spanish, thought Marta. It was all she was thinking about as she surrendered herself to the magical rhythm of the melody. She marveled at her journey to Buenos Aires, at all the time that had passed, the tango she learned, this romantic language, and the man she fell in love with. Until the beginning of the end...