Driving around the South of France: it’s a pleasure no matter what, in fairness, but when you are gazing out the window of the car, and see a horse? Bliss times a million.

Every single time I see a horse, even if it’s not in the South of France, it’s like my whole body ‘gasps’: Ah! I actually do gasp, and point, and say, ‘Oh!’ And I say something about them, like the massive draught horse we passed, I said, ‘Hey, big guy! Look at you!’

Happily, there was another pony mad woman in the car, and more often than not, she’d say ‘Susan!’ as I would be saying ‘Oh!’ and sharing the joy made it even more fantastic.

But every single time, it is like I have never seen a horse before — is that it? Or it’s like: There’s a horse! I haven’t seen a horse in like a minute/an hour/a day! But there’s one right now!

Or: Hey! Other people love horses too and there’s proof!

I don’t know. All I know is, every single time I see a horse, my whole being just floods with happiness. It’s great, and I will always feel it, and that’s all I need to know.

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