A human tide swayed Sebastián Castella through the Puerta Grande with the night in tow. Dress in white and silver.
He played Las Ventas, "his" square. And destiny, the fairies, the protective heaven that he kissed on his shoulders, wanted it precisely here that a bull of fable jumped in his hands. It was not easy to cram everything into the vessel of his wrists: the bravery, which really demanded an agonizing precision, and the gusts that whipped the crutch.