ABSTRACT
In this chapter, the author attempts to touch happy songs, at her audience's request, not only did she ruin them but she also felt that was uprooting the joy out of singing, doing injustice to the song as well as to her soul, primarily because she was lying. At some point she realised that there were two types of artists, some who were born to touch us through our joy and others who were born to touch us in our pain. From that moment on she was able to let go of her war against suffering. Searching, walking, stumbling and falling, and rising again, she discovered Tango too. Her son was born then, and she would put him to bed at night and play Tango on her iPod, and together with a glass of wine she listened to Tango for hours.
