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Cars > xsdcf3245’s Garage > Blog > They were grave


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xsdcf3245’s Blog Posts 1 – 5 of 56


They were grave

By xsdcf3245

Red door of the ring went shut, the crowd on the outside balconies of the bull ring were pressing through to the inside, there was a shout, then another shout. The man who had been gored lay face down in the trampled mud. People climbed over the fence, and I could not see the man because the crowd was so thick around him. From inside the ring came the shouts. Each shout meant a charge by some bull into the crowd. You could tell by the degree of intensity in the shout how bad a thing it was that was happening. Then the rocket went up that meant the steers had gotten the bulls out of the ring and into the corrals. I left the fence and started back toward the town. Back in the town I went to the Prada to have a second coffee and some buttered toast. The waiters were sweeping out the Prada and mopping off the tables.

One came over and took my order. Anything happen at the encierro? I didn't see it all. One man was badly Prada Wallets UK cogido. Where? Here. I put one hand on the small of my back and the other on my chest, where it looked as though the horn must have come through. The waiter nodded his head and swept the crumbs from the table with his cloth. Badly cogido, he said. All for sport. All for pleasure. He went away and came back with the long handled coffee and milk pots. He poured the milk and coffee. It came out of the long spouts in two streams into the big cup. The waiter nodded his head. Badly cogido through the back, he said. He put the pots down on the table and sat down in the chair at the table. A big horn wound.

All for fun. Just for fun. What do you think of that? I don't know. That's it. All for fun. Fun, you understand. You're not an aficionado? Me? What are bulls? Animals. Brute animals. He stood up and put his hand on the small of his back. Right through the back. A cornada right through the back. For fun you understand. He shook his head and walked away, carrying the coffee pots. Two men were going by in the street. The waiter shouted to them. They were grave looking. One shook his head he called. The waiter nodded his head. The two men went on. They were on some errand. The waiter came over to my table. You hear? Muerto. Dead. He's dead. With a horn through him. All for morning fun. Es muy flamenco. It's bad. Not for me, the waiter said. No fun in that for me. Later in the day timberland boots

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Cars > xsdcf3245’s Garage > Blog > They were grave

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