Imanol Sánchez, ear and back into the ring in Zaragoza
Imanol
Sanchez has cut off one ear and has given back the ring with an interesting and brave young bulls of the hands, in his appearance and first bullfight of the season in the bullring in Zaragoza.
As always, short of shooting for the low number of heifers progresses, delivery, and attempts to dominate all thirds.
... that sounds very metaphysical, and not as a geographical shift, but the ambiguity is good. Fatigue weighs in too many hours of a voyage to a coast that lay ahead. Suddenly resist cracks and gradually become imperceptible crevices for walking the streets with foreign feet without any problems. Breathing air wrong direction, air that is not up to my lungs and still is channeled perfectly with a freedom that love music. Tinkle fairy wings and it is time to make up, dressed and undressed that mimic the coldness of my banks. Some uprooting, detachment, de comida familiar que reúne, algo de inmortalidad que siempre tiene historias que contar. Me sumerjo en esa otra vida de una sola jornada a merced de un día nublado y cuántas vigas de colores para transitar haciendo equilibrio sobre las calles de tanto interior desconocido. Un viaje, como esos para los que todo el tiempo estoy dispuesta, un murmullo de voces en la cabeza gritándome que la permanencia es difícil de asir y sin embargo tan necesaria. Sobran las oportunidades de vuelta, como si el tiempo y la geografía me escupiera todo el tiempo hacia los puntos de origen, aún cuando hilos invisibles me sostienen en el trayecto. De nuevo descubrir que de eso se trata el viaje, de aprehender el trayecto, de investigarme in and not leave until I continued walking for life crimp experiences. The cracks become me, as my body is mine, as my story is mine, and my dream caged mine immensely. Sometimes I feel that chronic flaneur made of skin and bones. Sometimes only a trip to divest myself of the routine.
"Take sweater" he said. And he was right. The cold was almost tangible, and the terminal a haven for the company to wait for the event. started to crumble the cold walk to the location, we meet all agree, we sit on the grass. Instead of a thousand The loneliness of cigarettes makes the magic, before and after what will be the only thing that you can tell what will remain in the environment is uncertain and nothing else, almost a rare miedito tickles me. And no matter the myth, the reverence, the comments easy, the story of a chair, a flag, a microphone that sounds too low. up there stands the guy who sings love with that old-fashioned magic but we all try to drag up today so that its essence is floating like a strong perfume. It enjoys dancing, laughing, you interact happily with the rest. Babylon hugs me and makes me hungry fraternal warmth of other bodies that would embrace at the time. Maybe fly a song somewhere and catch them with their mouths at the same time. Smile. There bis and breathe an air of enchantment lost. The guy who sings it gives us good night with a voice-over and says goodbye forever. There was wave. Music was really churning guts. I exhausted my throat for a few seconds and flew over the field going by plane. Hugs groups, slow withdrawal and smiles to the world's longest night.
