ay, Zamoysky, Princessa, when you leave the lowlands and go into the sierras hot air from the Mediterranean meet cold mountain air, and gale force winds can blow even if it’s sunny and 25 degrees at the coast 25 minutes away. it’s not Spitzbergen, but it doesn’t feel like Spain either were it not for the bullring ….
bull fighting has been declared part of the Spanish cultural legacy, and now enjoys a protected status. it is ritualized, highly stylized and sometimes achingly beautiful, like a ballet of blood and death ….
Wow didn’t know that, amazing though
Gale force WInds in the Sun on a Horse back
I would love to see Bullfighting too one Day
You describe it so beautifully MK like a Ballet…
But i can not the Blood i am afraid, but if it
is stylized is it still a Work of Blood?
ay, Zamoysky, Princessa, the corrida is always a theater of blood, however choreographed it may be, and the ending is always given – the bull must die after twenty minutes, for a fighting bull has never seen a man on foot before it enters the sun drenched arena and faces the banderillero for the first time, and during the twenty minutes left of its life the bull will gradually learn that the muleta is not part of the bullfighter’s body and so it would kill the torero if it was allowed to live any longer…
ay, Zamoysky, it is a ballet more than a fight, and it is beautiful and terrible and full of grace and full of horrors too …
“And the land belonged to everyone and there were old songs yet to sing / Now it’s narrowed down to a cheap hotel and a tattooed prison wing”
But we keep on flying, buddy! Beyond these walls & up above the clouds. Because there are old songs yet to sing & we bullriders got them wings. And these wings can fly even if they’re just tattooed. Keep riding, keep flying, captein! I’m right behind!
Irritierendes Foto: Ort und Motiv lassen nicht genau festlegen, und daher rührt seine Faszination. Man bleibt im Ungewissen und fragt sich, was der gut eingepackte Fotograf denn ins Visier nimmt. Gruß, Uwe