CONTINUE
- Experts
- oligarpijas
- the dressing gown
That suburban veteran had his index finger and part of his nail dyed that rather disgusting nicotine yellow. If you caught him with a couple of cognacs, he would throw some bloody pearls that were a treat. Small in stature and cantankerous, he had read everything and that's why his breeching was an electric shock that made your day. On a certain occasion he offered me one of the best pieces of advice I've ever been given: "Palomar, look at the bulls and football, either you go for free or you don't go at all." He did not find such wisdom in either Gracian, La Rochefoucauld, Montaigne, or the inevitable Kapuscinski.
When my friend Pepe told me last Thursday to invite him to the square
of bulls of Valencia, I remembered that noble maxim and I accepted immediately. It had been more than a decade since she had set foot on a thing. Between the 'dogs' with soft hands that kissed the albero at the first muletazo and the blessed jar of essences that are usually as sealed as the cover of a sewer, I was forced to leave because I ran the risk of finding greater emotions in something so repellent as the Cirque du Soleil, and it wasn't that either. But I went back to the bulls because hearing that I was the only one made up of feeling somewhat outlawed (this is childish, but what does it matter). And I came back because that's how I haggled over the greasy and pious tsunami of political correctness. And I came back because During the days before the bullfight I felt the worm of joyful nervousness running through my bones. And I came back to remember the chronicles and the books by Antonio Díaz-Cañabate, 'El Caña'. And I came back because in Valencia and in Fallas it is cool to enjoy an afternoon of bullfighting with food beforehand and drink after party. And I went back to see Morante and that dashing attitude of Morante and those sideburns of Morante that remind me of Edi Clavo's, that drummer from Gabinete Caligari. Bullfighting? Well, in the end, ugh, well, hey... It was raining, the wind was bothering me a lot, the bulls weren't there... Damn, the usual... But if you invite me again I'll repeat, eh.
