In San Pedro, Belize, a man hits the drums with his hands by the street. Children run up and down the steps. An older couple talks by the door. A man with long hair sits on a couch, playing his guitar. He takes off his sunglasses and looks up towards the window.
In the apartment building, Madonna rocks in her chair. She peeks through the lacy curtain, watching the long-haired man play guitar and starts to cry.
Wearing a red flamenco dress and carnations in her hair, Madonna dances in a room with lit candles on small trays and hanging from a candelabra.
At the shrine, Madonna lights candle and entwines the rosary in her fingers. She kneels down and prays.
The long-haired man moves his head to the music, his eye on the window, waiting. Couples and children dance in the street. A man carries his groceries and listens as he crosses the street.
In the red dress, she lies on the floor and touches her leg.
The long-haired man smiles as he notices Madonna looking out the window again. He nods his head to her, beckoning her to come join him.
In the red dress, she closes the door and walks down the stairs. She twirls around among the people in the street and whispers in the long-haired man’s ear. Playing with his hair between her fingers, she gazes back at him and then walks down the street.
She stands at the shrine, her head bowed.
Every day, the long-haired man plays his guitar on the couch outside. Usually, he sees some of the same people walk by. An older man listens every Tuesday as he does his groceries. The couple behind the shop ignores him as they either bicker or talk, depending on their mood. The children say hello and dance. The teenagers park their cars in the street and dance with their significant others.
It’s Madonna, who he waits for ever day, as she stares out the window from her apartment building with guilty eyes. He wonders if she believes music is a sin or grieving some family members. She hides away in her room. afraid. He grins at her but she turns away from the window, only to return a few minutes later.
He imagines her, in a room of burning candles, wearing a red flamenco dress, bounding down the steps to him. Free and lovesick, wanting him with every cell within her body that she can no longer resist. He can feel her breath on his neck and her fingers running through his hair, whispering his lyrics back to him and saying she loves him.
Director: Mary Lambert Year: 1987