Allegra Harvard
My Spanish Story
In Spain I killed a bull, but I didn’t do it correctly or in justice. I didn’t fight the bull at all I just broke into the ranch while it was sleeping and killed the bull and I cut off its testicles and ran away. It was cold-blooded and awful and my name is Handke — variable as my alias and horrible as my truth, the public wasn’t available as option — it was killing. It was murder by choice and a huge mistake. I looked like this:
yelling “Toro! Toro! Toro!” with the bull’s testicles in my hand— it was my greatest liberty and fame that brought me here, “I am now free! And I have saved the century of its age and pitiless absence! I have vanquished the bull and eaten its heart! I carry the testicles as a sign of bravery and an act of courage! I feel resilience and anguish through the perceptions of time and water. I extend the aggression of my age into mine own body and forget thee with thy timeless urgency and rage! I have not forsaken thee I have forsaken them and I have come into brilliance and will now create the atom bomb!” In this wild strike of courage and exhilaration, I eat the testicles and from brevity of my own beingness I choke and definitively die which is followed by my horrible resurrection as a young bull in that same ranch which is quaking with new life and a beautiful hide conditioned perfectly to be slaughtered by myself from the past — human, naked, wild, and awful. When the death of both bull and human is precipitated, consciousness awakens: this bull was never a new bull to me. It was me killing myself for centuries and everytime I am reincarnated from bull to being, I wise up and get a little greedier about my morals and will be in this infinite circle until the little Boudha frees me.