Explore "Mexico" by James Albert Michener on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
If Saturday night was, as I said earlier, the happiest night of a festival because looming obligations could be ignored, Sunday night after the close of the last fight was clearly the most depressing, for now a return to normal life and its tensions became inescapable. This was particularly true of Ixmiq-61, because the last fight had been such an emotional affair that a letdown was inevitable, and as participants in the festival gathered in desultory manner at the various tables on the Terrace, one could detect a certain vacancy in their eyes, as if the fires of the last three nights had left only smoldering embers.
It was a night of bittersweet experiences, none more intense and complex than the one I became involved with when I took my seat at a table at which Penny Grim was talking agitatedly with León Ledesma, who was apparently telling her things she did not want to hear. "Tell her, Norman, what these American girls who cluster about the matadors like bees seeking honey are called."