This week, it’s Thomas Morales’s turn*. You were so young. – It was in the winter of 1962, I was already almost 30 years old. I was bullfighting on a road in Normandy, at the entrance of Villerville.
The “Vieux” scolded me that day because I almost lost the use of one hand. My muleta got caught in the side mirror of a car. – I miss the “Vieux”. In recent weeks, I have often thought about him.
You know they come to visit me at night, in my room in Douchy. He invited me to ride in his Maserati Ghibli. He was enchanting like a setting sun. And then, Romy held my hand tenderly.
Meanwhile, in the forest, my malinois were barking. – Alain, you have always been a romantic…