The bull, striking the wood from side to side with his horns,(P) made a great noise. Then I saw a dark muzzle and the shadow of horns, and then, with a clattering (G) on the wood in the hollow box, the bull charged and came out into the corral, skidding with his forefeet in the straw as he stopped, (P) his head up, (NA) the great hump of muscle on his neck swollen tight, (NA) his body muscles quivering as he looked up at the crowd on the stone walls. (NA) The two steers backed away against the wall, their heads sunken, (NA) their eyes watching the bull. (NA)
Over his lavender collar, crushed upon a purple necktie, (P) held by a diamond hoop: (P)over his ammunition belt of tooled (P) leather worked in silver, buckled cruelly around his gasping middle: (P) over the tops of his glossy shoes Braggioni swells with ominous ripeness, his mauve silk hose stretched taut, (NA) his ankles bound with the stout leather thongs of his shoes. (NA)
The firemen drew near at 3am, walking through the powdery light in their bunker gear, (P)their Irish and Italian names sparkling in reflective tape at the bottom of their jackets. These were the walking angels (G) of the city.
Leaning over the balcony railing, (P) I see the waiters, dressed in white jackets, (P) already arranging chairs on the sidewalk. (P) A boy, his face hidden by the ample hood of a burnoose, (NA) is bicycling with difficulty toward the grocery store next to the café. Hung over the bar handles (P) are two straw baskets overloaded with fat loaves of bread. Bread is the gift of Allah.