— Hello John! How are you doing? Where have you been? I tried to find you but could not.
— Hello Peter! You will not believe me! I went to Spain to watch the fight of the bulls. It was brilliant.
— Wow, that is great! Could you please tell me about it? It must be interesting.
— Listen then. There was a bull and there was a man. And for twelve minutes out there on the sand I saw something that would never occur anywhere else on the earth, the perfect dual between life and death. I saw men daintily throwing their lives upon the horns, and at the end I watched a man with a piece of cloth that played a bull to death. People screamed with insanity from the tension. Horses far from the scene neighed and when it was all over, I sat quiet as death. In the beginning of all this the red doors through which the matadors soon entered in their resplendent parade were opened.
The guards opened the small door from which the six bulls emerged one by one. No matter how many times I have seen the entrance of the bullfighters it was always a thrilling experience. They came out side by side as if all were equal and the fight began. During the first part of the bullfight the matador used his large cape. Those capes are Magenta or dark yellow. The matadors used the red cloth only at the end of the fight. The bull charged everything that moved no matter the colour. He did see the brighter colours easier in a bull ring but they were not so important as it seems to you. The bull is a killer not an art fancier. And usually the bull is killed by the man who places the sword through the shoulder into the heart and thattime it was the same.
— It is so bright! I think I will go to Spain to watch the bull fighting as you did.
— Okay, see you then and you will tell me about your impression.