Winterthur Point to Point
Winterthur Point to Point 2015

The margin separating spectator from participant is narrow. My teeth rattle to the rhythm of hooves striking the hard ground. Fine particles of dust settle on my damp skin. The tang of sweated horse flesh burns in my nostrils, tastes salty on my tongue. Thundering concussions ring in my ears and bold colors flash before my eyes like a lightning storm.

One thought on “Narrow Margins

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