The performance was everything that I love about dance - drama, pain, the miraculous strength of the human body, limbs so saturated with emotion that you feel every tremor of the human soul in the sweep of a finger. Even if I understood nothing of the songs being unleashed by the four barrel-chested singers, every nuance was devastatingly beautiful and intense.
The speed of the dancing feet, and the light, quick movements of the guitarists over the strings, kept me in constant shivers. And oh, the anticipation that any time now, she might elegantly flick her ruffled skirts into her hand and - just for a moment - you might catch a glimpse of her gorgeous calves.
Yerbabuena took on four distinct personalities in each performance.
First, there was woman in sorrow, dancing to a mournful, dramatic song so heavy with emotion that it could have been the soundtrack for the genesis of life. Then there was woman joyful, arching her back and playfully kicking her skirts with unrelenting, unapologetic bliss.
Clad in a tight dress of dark red and black, woman survivor soon followed to confirm - with every stomp of her foot - that she would continue to transcend and lift up and up and up...
Finally, Yerbabuena emerged wearing a creamy pearl-coloured concoction that at first glance seemed to be a wedding dress. The singers stepped out of the darkness - one at a time - and approached her with slow menace. I thought, is this woman haunted?
But then, surrounded by the four vocalists, woman triumphant became so resplendent in the white light that I sometimes had to look away. She hammered out her existence through her feet and soon led the tamed 'ghost' singers away, her power untouched.
Every moment expressed the stuff that life is made of - pain, joy, mystery, strength, conflict, peace.
And it was beautiful. All of it.
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