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Beauty In Beasts
A local news affiliate ran a story today about a local farm. The farm has several miniature horses and donkeys, which the owners regularly load into a trailer and take to area nursing homes. The clip I saw (which I searched for in vain, so no link is available right now, alas) was wondrous. The expressions on the faces of the aged ones as they stroked and talked to the little equines were beyond beautiful. One wisp of a lady said to a donkey, “You’re so beautiful. You’re a beautiful girl. I believe you’re the most beautiful of them all.” And the large brown eyes gazed back at her with…
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Poor Little Thing
She came to the office today, and this has been my only arena of contact with her for the years that I’ve been aware of her life. Her daughter always brings her, and together they pass through the doors meek and bowed and deferential, wearing the mien of learned helplessness, carrying the rooted resignation of their bloodline but lacking the grit. They see me as an authority, me — and no matter how soft or unassuming or passive I present myself to them, I have never been able to convince them that I am from their world, not the world of my employers. She wears knit gloves and a wool…