WHY WOMEN LOVE HORSES
WHY WOMEN LOVE HORSES When I inhale horse breath, sweet and familiar, I can picture my girlhood, see the ground blur green, feel the damp joy of muck and liberty clinging to my brow, my thighs, under my nails. That stink of sweat and earth sticks to you like a day you want to return to. That longing to buck, skin slick and legs thundering. Bridled but still unbroken, teetering between unruly and dignified, disciplined and uncontrolled. A horse will turn feral if loses its confines, is given enough time away from governing hands, dictated days. There isn’t a woman I know who doesn’t burn with the same faculty. Like calling to like. Frequency seeking frequency. We understand the gleam in their plum-purple eyes, the twitch in their whispered lips that says: kick the boards down, jumps the fence, run. L.E. Bowman
I didn't know until you wrote it that this is why horses have held such a large part of my soul for my entire life, but it absolutely is.
I have come back to this over the past couple of days. It resonates so much.
A wildness that can never be tamed.