The seafood paella is so rich and fresh, and the wine in his glass is so enticing, and the ambiance of the restaurant patio is so delightfully carefree, that Panza doesn’t even notice the bulls. But the siesta has just begun, and his meal is far too good to leave on the table, so he nods to the waiter for another glass.
The seafood paella is so rich and fresh, and the wine in his glass is so enticing, and the ambiance of the restaurant patio is so delightfully carefree, that Panza doesn’t even notice the bulls. But the siesta has just begun, and his meal is far too good to leave on the table, so he nods to the waiter for another glass.
He has lingered too long, and now they’re upon him. The plate, upended by his belly, sends saffron-kissed seafood across the patio. He draws his fork in a valiant defense of the restaurant patrons. A hundred hooves pounding the asphalt kick up dust, clouding the sky. There’s no time to save the paella. No time for a last sip of wine. Only time to run.