chunky retired pony 💕
4 months post race track
How I explain the difference between cross country and show jumping:
If you hit the jump in show jumping, it will collapse.
If you hit the jump in cross country, you will collapse.
whys zenyatta the new “uwu hes such a cute cinnamon roll” character on tumblr now
it took me a second to realize you were talking about overwatch cause at first i assumed you were talking about the retired racehorse.
why do you know a racehorse by name
I was tagged in this and I feel attacked
omg
When the person at the start box on cross country counts down to one.
It’s like
HOLY SHIT
This is mesmerizing to watch
a secret code between women: are you safe? in a contact of eyes. i’m here if you need me, the littlest shift of a skirt, of an inclined head, of watching the man who is asking you to smile, bitch. you aren’t alone on the walls of restrooms, i was where you are too. the quiet doling of emergency numbers, the shelters. the space between two women in a largely empty train station. the waiting game of two women strangers who walk, quietly and quickly, to their cars in abandoned parking lots, who watch to be sure the other leaves safely. text me you get home safe. the tally marks of drinks on hidden wrists, carefully disguised as other things ever since men picked up on what it meant and used it to target the “weakest link.”
my father tells me we have nothing to worry about. last night he sent me one of those email chains that say at the top “Safety Tips For The Women In Your Life!!!! Don’t Let Her Die!!”
me, and the stranger on the train. she is asleep and the man is asking me who i am going home to. i feel tears pricking the sides of my eyes. i am 13 while he towers over me. he reaches out one hand, and while i don’t know how she knows, she speaks up without opening her eyes: “If you touch my daughter, sir, I will murder you.” Whatever he grumbles is lost in history, because this moment I am so grateful for the existence of other people that I cannot breathe.
I am 19 and on my phone when i become aware of a 13 year old girl is smiling nervously at a man who’s saying disgusting things. I grab her arm. “There you are, cindy,” I say, and then look at the man like he is bile. “Do you need something from my sister?” i ask, and i walk away with her. she cries later.
this is the way of things: a silent, secret web. our promise to each other that despite our differences, when it comes to the wire, we become family, instantly. the unspoken promise. i’m here. i’m watching. i’ll witness.
Elsa Meier is a horse admirer. Since childhood, she knew she couldn’t live without them and felt nature and wildness were her sources of inspiration. “I base my work on my own experience, my feelings and my knowledge. I like learning and sharing my discoveries. […] I observed nature and my models for hours to put all my heart and my passion into the snapshots I shoot.”
Website: http://www.horses-art.com/ Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/pictures.meier/timeline Flickr: https://www.flickr.com/photos/85514339@N08/ Instagram: https://instagram.com/horsesart_elsa_meier_photos Twitter: https://twitter.com/ElsaMeier_Photo
2017 prophecy
babes
Lissabon- 1999 Bay Oldenburg Stallion.
Holy 😍
“another cocktail please.. Pronto!”
Lillie Keenan & Be Gentle, Madrid Horse Week CSI2.
PC: Herve Bonnaud