The newest installment of my micro-essay series, We Know So Little, is about horses, our inexplicably-linked history with them, and how they’ve served as a source of calm and comfort throughout so many instances of turmoil in my life.
The horse is running at full-speed, the arch of its back unmistakable, hooves raised high, ears perked, mane blowing, slicing through warm wind, scrubland, high desert, jungle. You’re twenty, no thirty, no sixteen; you’re single, no married, no dating: the horse responds to your touch with spasms of its remarkable muscle, by blowing its lips, letting out an imposing roar. It responds to you, the two of you together, this dance along the horizon, the edge of a lake where a marbled sky overhead promises rain, where thunderous green storms promise relief.
Describe a horse running forever.
No: describe how we got there.