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 back bones any more. 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.