horses
Two weeks ago or so I was cooking dinner and listening to the radio and there was breaking news on NPR about horses that were dying in a derby in Florida. One by one they were dropping, and in total 21 died. 21 horses. The most beautiful creature to me. Like my Moby but larger, larger hearts possibly and larger brains, larger intuition. I felt sick to my stomach while listening; I turned the radio off. Too much sadness. I went to the New York Times online to see if there was any information, but there was no mention of it. If it were my newspaper, it would be the headline. No word the next day on NPR. Nothing since. I wondered if I had dreamt it, this horrible story. A part of my brain has been set aside for this story, waiting to hear the results — how did they die? Are the families sick with grief? Nothing. I googled the story tonight to see if I had dreamt it, but I didn’t. I found the news story from that day’s tragedy, but nothing since. I keep waiting, this strange space of waiting for the completion of a story that it feels like no one but me has heard of.
