A lot of things have kept me up at night but I could never imagine that it might be the huff and stamp of a hundred bulls outside my bedroom window. Morning couldn’t come quickly enough. Looking back over this last paragraph, I fear it is open for misinterpretation. What I meant to say is this: I couldn’t wait for the sun to come up, over the faintly illuminated hills and the vast landscape of olive groves. I could sense a Best Day coming. But before I launch further into hyperbole, let me explain that we are now in the hills of southern Spain, on a ranch famous for raising prize-winning bulls, with miles of rocky terrain between us and the nearest town. Getting straight to the point, I am not a fan of bull-fighting. I
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