The split-second eternity of running with the bulls
By Michael K. Cobb
I swear that big bull had me in his sights. Horns squared, nostrils flared, he was headed straight for me, and not taking his time about it. For an unbearably long half-second on the morning of Friday the 13th in Pamplona, Spain, I wondered if I’d see my wife and kids again. Read More