Thursday, 19 May 2011

Every afternoon, before homework

Walking straight into an Autumn setting sun clicked sense memory into action and suddenly I was eleven years old trotting a straight and terrifying line from one end of the arena to the other on a patient little shaggy pony. The sensation of my own footsteps gave way to the jarring little tap taps of a beginner rider learning to feel the rolling rhythmic power contained even within a patient little shaggy pony, whose tiny hoofbeats sounded like thunder in my terrified ears.

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