In Florence ...
Light - ethereal vision - horse and rider soar in pursuit of an animal symbiosis.
From his hoofs, the beast strums the earth a thousand times kneaded. His rider: a young girl with hair of coffee and green eyes where the innocence of his age is lost in a mature determination. Tame, or transfer by hand? Teach or learn? So many ideas, choices and decisions are scrambling under his mop bullied in the air split by the gallop.
Under the abyss of heavenly draped his tawny color to the rumors of autumn twilight, the youngster picking on his horse walk, trot, canter. extended canter, stop, step aside ...
Weight ultralight cons heavyweight. The hour is discipline.
Muscles contract. Widen the nostrils, quiver. Two ears, radar velvet, probe the area for any voice signal. The little gray dapple horse is listening.
Bold, yet tender and brave. Ham, but never aggressive.
Once training ended, six legs will tread the green grass. This pair enjoys touching, both relaxed its mutual silence. The time is complicity.
Nathalie Benoit,
On August 7, 2002
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