I was a tarpan. There was a whole herd of us, and we raced across the steppe, leaping over hills and ravines. The earth flew under our feet, and we were free from it, from the earth, and from the sky, getting cold over our heads, and from boring duty to return home to the stable.
We didn’t have a home, we didn’t have anything worth treasured on earth. We flew between the steppe and the sun, incinerating each other with the eternal heat of love, and maybe hate. We flew between two lights, like an arrow shot after us, or a bullet flying towards us. And at sunset, when, exhausted, the sun and the steppe were leaning towards each other, we alone did not feel tired. Continue reading