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His mane cascades down his neck Like a waterfall shimmering in the sun. He steps out of the hauling box Into the mess, confusion, and fun. He tries to please his master But he knows he will be exhausted before the day is done. In the starting gate he fidgets Because he's ready to run.
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We write to taste life twice, in the moment and in retrospect.
― Anais Nin
Lidi 