A horse loves freedom, and the weariest old work horse will roll on the ground and break into a lumbering gallop when he is turned loose into the open.
Gerald Raferty



With flowing tail and flying mane,
Lord Byron
Wide nostrils never stretched by pain,
Mouth bloodless to bit or rein,
And feet that iron never shod,
And flanks unscar’d by spur or rod,
A thousand horses – the wild – the free –
Like waves that follow o’er the sea,
Came thickly thundering on.




Blame it or praise it, there is no denying the wild horse in us.
Virginia Woolf
Photos : Filipa Moreira da Cruz