Don’t you wanna?
Let the music take over you. The subtle sounds of the bass guitar. The acoustic beats of the samba drum. The soulful voice of the woman in purple. And the complimentary sounds and beauty of the lady in blue. With each step, the Samba entered the soul and took control. You don’t move to the beat drum. The best of the drum moves you. It picks up your foot, gently taps it on the wooden floor. The tambourine grabs your hips and moves back and forth, swaying and swelling like the ocean. The guitar, feeds your soul, you’re desire to let the instruments move your body. And the voice, the voice is soothing, it lulls your consciousness to sleep, but you’re awake the whole time. You see all around you. You feel the warm people all around you. Inhibition is gone. The woman next to you smiles, and you grab her hand and hip. Both of you are puppets to the Samba, moving back and forth, side to side swiftly.
Then the music ends. The sweet voice that had hypnotized your every move fades away. The drums last beats rumble into an echo. The strings of the guitar vibrate back into their place of origin. Body’s stop moving. You and you’re partner let go, and you patiently await the return of the puppeteer. The Samba.