At 17 years old I went to my first and only boxing match in saddle ring. When former champion of Europe of the weight fly fishing, Young Martin, received the first slap, his face was doubled and the blood that came out of her mouth spurt splashed to a pleased spectator, two rows before me. Years later, in Haiti, I saw my first and only cock fighting. The dispossession that the contenders were converted at once made me vomit. Understand, then, my little hobby to violence, whether between men or animals.
Neither the fight between the two, even if you have the tragic artistic beauty of bullfighting. I understand even less festive use of suffering and death, in many festivals, helpless animals: geese, goats, chickens, calves, where art and risk are replaced by the brutality and the helplessness. If you press me, also find me incomprehensible the detached from bous Al carrer, the embolats and even closures as of San Fermin, bous, where the constant stalking of the tragedy is what It magnifies their collective interest. Therefore, the ban on bullfighting in Catalonia would have no greater significance than other administrative provisions of equal nature. But, Oh!, among some, and others have turned the event into one element of disaffection between that region in the geographical concept of the term, we not annoying her and the rest of Spain. If not some and others we reflect on this delicate matter and try to minimize their consequences, we will show that we we are animals, and no more beyond around the corner, everyone will finish by regretting it.