We equip the horses with what
we lack: loyalty and
courage. We love them for their
loyalty and courage. It's November,
the wind blows gently in our faces, cold little
showers splash from the tree-
tops. The horses are frightened by their
imagination. The horses are frightened by
anything at all and set off.
Nature is not wasteful; nature follows
strict economic laws. The trees
stay put in the mist, motionless.
Something has slowly changed, I
know: what I remember doesn't