The ox sets the pace in El Capricho. We lower our tone of voice and our steps slow and soften when we enter their fields and approach them, trying not to disturb the slow, silent world where they live, where nothing is louder than the wind and the sound of their own breathing. We are caught up in that rhythm and absence of noise as we walk among them, caress them, brush them slowly and feed them; they let us do this, pleased by the attention. Slow and silent pass the days, the seasons and the years too, sometimes more than ten years, allowing the oxen to mature without haste, each at their own pace, until they reach the prime that comes before their slaughter.