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[ Horse Country ] The Insta-Crowd ] Not About the War ]  

 

 

Horse Country, Mongolia

 

 

Hot golden prairie lay silent and pristine beneath an endlessly blue sky. The air was still and I could see forever. I had been alone inside the landscape for hours, but now there was a horse rising into the periphery of the vast nothingness.

 

 

Soon it was beside me, the rhythmic thud of its hooves slowing to match the pace of Greene's wheels. The teenager sat high on his horse's withers, as Mongolians have ridden across the centuries, across half the world once. He was beautiful, this boy who was almost a man. He rode like a prince.

 

 

"Tsai uu?" he asked ("Tea?"), pointing to a lone house at the foot of the hills. I nodded, and we moved on together, out across the prairie. 

 

 

[ Horse Country ] The Insta-Crowd ] Not About the War ]  

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