20
Jan
09

Tango in the mist

Text by Claudia Leschonski, photo Paula da Silva

She dreams of being equal.
Different from her herd mates, she strives to lock eyes with a human: here, this is me! I like you and want to be with you, but not as mere beast of burden. Please look at me.

Some people almost understand, but most don’t. Some days she can almost remember being elsewhere, being different, but then the old days are gone in a haze, and again she waits in half-formed dreams.

Tango in the mist


Then one evening this man comes as if out of nowhere, looks her in the eyes, and whispers: I feel as if I were half horse, milady.
Shall we dance?

And instead of hopping astride, he guides her through her paces from the ground, ever so gently, until
they become almost one, her soft toes and his hard hooves in unison on the grass.

Then he bows – gracias, princesa – and vanishes in the mist. She feels lost and found and happy and sad, all at once, and wonders – so this is what my rider meant when she buried her face in my mane until it was wet…

She shudders and steps away, daintily, like a princess. Mere horse no longer.

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