horse, my chimera
How many times have I wanted you ride, Weird? My most secret dreams told me about you ...
From a long wavy mane including ballet mad tickles every movement of your neck strong; of rippling muscles in a shimmering gown, soap scum, a long silky tail to beat the cadence and the flies of both eyes at once shy and alert, ready to please his master.
I mostly dreamed of galloping long and frantic, meadows into deserts, steppes shores, or intoxication, an accomplice of the time, was alone the pleasure last. These impromptu ballads or beast and rider are discovered without even talking
... My soul is full of a powerful companion, a hot-blooded horse whose profile athletic recalls his ancestors, immortalized in the form of Greek statues. But a friend who offers me patient and playful the velvet of his nose while his mouth calling for a treat.
A small woman and a horse rushed to a vague ideal of freedom, the time horizon. Their bond is closing the cycle of seasons.
The face of one lost in the hair of another, it is no longer a girl or horse, but a female centaur.
Nathalie Benoit,
On May 24, 2004
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