Bruno Bertini

To a foreigner, the corrida is Spain’s Colosseum. I’ve always been fascinated by it. We were on our way to a friend’s wedding, early, when I spotted the arches of a village I’d never heard of. “Five minutes,” I told Jessica. Five minutes became a long table, a glass of red from a family we’d never met, and phone numbers swapped with Carlos, the inspector of the corrida. We had a wedding to get to, so we promised to come back the day after. We did. I climbed on top of the fountain in the square