Appendix I
The brittle wind agitates my lustrous hair, making it seem – from a distance – as though it was, instead, the rippling mane of a wild horse raging across the placid desert. I do not care to suffer the greedy weight of a selfish rider skimming across my surging backbones anymore. My avid eyes predict my future hoofprints in the shifting landscape ahead – those that will accompany my sinuous flight to freedom. My pounding frame, surging legs, and swooping head all blend into an elegant
meat mechanism intended only to escape into the beckoning light. A horse is a sweating emblem of easy nobility, but only if it is unconstrained, unbroken, and free. Only ever if it is free.