Noctemfaere

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Digital drawing. Center, a winged horse facing viewer, seen from chest up, mane falling to its right. Partly extended right wing is shadowy and hazy. The left wing is raised and stretched out, and the feathers are defined. Emerging from the horse’s sides under its wings are two more flying horses whose forms are translucent. The horse on the left flank extends a wing and raise a leg. The horse on the right flank extends a wing and raise’s two legs. A glowing mist streams down from center top.

When I was child, I wanted them to be real.  But even as a child, I knew they were not. Not in this world.  And so far as I knew, this world was the only world there was.  The only real world.  But for someone who’s never been anywhere near a real horse, I had a keen yearning for their mythical counterparts to be real.  And for me to find them, meet them, be accepted by them, and in my deepest desires, be favored by them.

I learned all their stories. 

And the stories were more vivid to me than the dry and distant history of my own kind.

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