I remember one thing, whilst I am looking out the window.
Catching snowflakes falling in my field of vision simultaneously while thoughts simmer like unspoken words.
I remember a horse, white as the snow and stubborn as a donkey.

We spoke under a silence that felt like a thick dusty mist.
Bearing no more words than expressions.
No more expressions than condensed air.
No more thoughts shared than needed.

I searched his body with my eyes.
Looking up and down at him like there was something that needed to be trapped.
Hunted down with a piercing stare.
I remember the lustre of his fur, gleeming back at me in a hypnotising way.
A tremble, shiver starting around his mane and traveling along his back as a contagious sideeffect.

I trapped it.
His soul.
I had it.
The hurt, the angst, the turns, the bits and pieces of him missing.
I felt it.

"What's wrong with his left hind leg?"
No answer.
"Something is wrong with it. I can tell."


A damp voice reaching from a void.
"Nothing. He had an injury when he was a yearling. But that is long gone."

Is it really?
Is it now, really?
Then how come could I tell?

It still puzzles me.
We tilt our heads and smile without recognition.
Like dogs looking at their masters.
Never searching for a question.
I always loved the question, more so than the answer.
Maybe this is why I believe more in spirituality than religion.

I didn't know you then and I don't know you now but I still love you for pointing me in the right direction.
Thank you white horse. I hope your leg is on the recovery.


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