The story behind my "Fuimos"

Every tango tells a story. In just a few minutes, it invites us to live an experience that may—or may not—reflect something we have lived ourselves. Perhaps the connection is not literal, but there is always an emotion, a circumstance, or a feeling that allows us to recognize ourselves in one of its characters.

That is exactly what happened to me with "Fuimos," the tango written by Homero Manzi. Manzi himself used to say that he could never write by inventing stories; he could only write from memory.

Over the years, a story began to circulate that Manzi wrote this tango because he sensed that the end of his life was approaching. According to that interpretation, he wanted to end a love relationship in order to spare the woman he loved the immense pain of losing him. Whether that story is true or not, we may never know.

What we do know is that every person experiences a tango through the lens of their own life. Our memories, our loves, our losses, and our wounds inevitably shape the way we understand and feel a song.

This video is my attempt to tell a story—the story of my own Fuimos. It is not a literal account of my life, but it is born from an emotion that is deeply familiar to me.

In the video, I am reading a letter that I discover inside an old Aníbal Troilo record—the very record that contains Fuimos. Then I look into a mirror and see his reflection... the reflection of someone who is no longer here. I search for the letter, begin to read it, and with every word, memories of a life filled with love and happiness begin to unfold. At the same time, I return to the moment when that letter first reached my hands.

In this story, the letter was written by him as a farewell. He chooses to end the relationship before his death, believing that by doing so he can spare the woman he loves from the unbearable pain of losing him.

Some people believe that Fuimos is about ending a toxic relationship. I see it differently. To me, it tells the story of a profound and unconditional love—a person who loves so deeply that, in the face of death, he believes that letting go is the greatest act of love he can offer, hoping to soften the pain that will inevitably come.

That is the story I see and feel every time I listen to or sing this tango.

Oscar, my husband and dance partner, with whom I shared twenty years of my life and who passed away on March 20, 2025, after battling a tumor, would apologize to me during the final months of his life for the pain it caused me to watch him suffer, and for the immense pain he knew would come with his death.

For me, that was one of the most heartbreaking experiences of my life: seeing that his capacity to love was greater than the suffering he himself was going through, and that, even in the midst of his own pain, he was more concerned about my pain than his own.

This tango is dedicated to him: Oscar Mandagaran, a man who loved with all the strength of his heart, without reservation, until his very last day.

Today, August 13, 2026, he would have turned 57…

I love you, and I will carry you with me forever…

Recorded in Buenos Aires in December 2025 with the great pianist Oscar De Elia, at Ariel Pirotti's recording studio.

The music video was produced by STP Producciones and directed by Milagros Mandagaran (Oscar's eldest daughter) and Matías Kai.

https://youtu.be/YPwbbg-SBuo

Acknowledgments

A very special thank you to Oscar de Elía, pianist and musical partner, for his guidance, wisdom, and extraordinary expressive sensitivity. All of his artistry is devoted to helping me, as an interpreter, tell the story rather than simply sing it. His way of accompanying, listening, and understanding every word and every emotion transforms the music into a true dialogue.

I would also like to thank Leonardo Bedoya for his participation as the protagonist of this story, and my tango vocal coach, the great singer Carlos Rossi, whose presence and teaching have been so important to me. The book cover that appears in the video is the cover of his book, Con el corazón en la garganta (With My Heart in My Throat).

I would also like to thank Roque, the doorman of my building, who appears in one of the scenes. Roque knew Oscar and witnessed our story, so having him be part of this video has a very special meaning for me.

And another very special thank you to my little dog Baruj, who had to repeat the scene of going out for a walk several times… until he finally resigned himself to the fact that, this time, he simply wasn’t going to get to go out! 🐾❤️

To all of them, thank you for being part of this story and for helping me tell it from such a truthful, heartfelt, and deeply personal place.