Approaching the beast, I expected animation at any moment, but I then noted the groups and families freezing before the bull’s face, and smiling towards cameras. Surely this tremendous animal had been put under some sort of a spell; I imagined the bull at the height of youthful power and force over stepping some godly law, upsetting the balance, and then being instantly transformed into bronze and sentenced to an eternity along an urban street. But what of myself? Having been cast out of my garden by a journey and set among the concrete. I had left my gnomely life and family in search of something, and one day my veins may run metal, and my beard gleam bronze, my eyes lifelessly reflecting light. It was with this thought that I grabbed hold of the bull’s misfortune; I anchored myself with his golden horn and thrust my leg over his neck, fully dominated him. I cast my glance towards the camera and tried to smile, thinking of what must have been done to deserve this fate; where his journey had taken him.