Behind a title that is more or less topical, more or less familiar, there can be no slightest allusion to conventional aesthetic language, because the selection of photographs published by Baylón deliberately distances itself from the superficial aspects of the bullfighting festival and reveals to us a world that is close, yes, but also overlooked. There is no place here for the stands smelling of whisky, for the matadors’ gleaming gold, or for the spectacle of the fundamental moves of bullfighting. Baylón rejects the stereotypical image and instead prefers to show us the sky of an afternoon at the bullring, the gaze of the doormen, the profile of the elderly aficionados, and the arguments of the ticket scalpers.