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Of course in this case one has to take the side of the bull. They would I guess see the bull as evil and so hideous and dangerous, that no-one in their right-mind would take on such a monster, the forces of nature - single handedly and by themselves. The matador slays the dragon.
He becomes rich, famous, wears princely clothes, is the love of all the women. He saves them from the devil, the knight in shining armor, using a sword and color-coded shield - seeing-red. Rather a rustic scene. It is the collapse that is really shocking, when the whole mocking and teasing pageant comes to an end. The bull is stabbed and just falls flat, thud-mud, dead, cold, did-in, done - finished. What did I just see here - an execution ? The matador is a butcher with a fancy outfit. And for what was the bull's crime ? That I have to eat. I have always loved Oxtail Soup.
Would guess it could have been a woman's sport, or at least perceived as such by the men, showing off for the women, and the men in the audience wishing they could, or identifying with - 'he the maxim' of the woman's desires. The man kills the meat. Man the hunter. An actor - the more flamboyant the greater the prize. Then they brought out a team of horses to drag the cease-to-be critter thru the mud across the ring and through the wall, leaving drag marks across the clay, as an ignoble history of what had just been - emotion bearing life.
From Seville we drove inland straight across to Lisbon. What struck me about the interior through that passage, was the way towns and villages up in the distant mountain sides, were nearly indistinguishable from the natural terrain.
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