|
![Sauza](../../images/ads/sauza_title.gif)
The trainers wait in the shadows, cradling killers in their arms, uttering
little shouts of “chica!” as they hurl back shots of fine
tequila. When their turn finally comes, money flies like feathers floating
from one hand to the other. The ring is dusty and small and just a little
bit absurd. The dirty dance begins and everything pushes its way up to
the level of overwhelming: the smell, the sound, the greed, the aggression,
the sense of inevitability. After all, all of us here are men.
Sauza
Live a legend.
|