for Tim Cope, and his horseback journey from Mongolia to Hungary.
Sheered pig fat for the dog, and in his eating, a spirit passing continental drift toward another day revolving. The dog that is protection, the dog that is the anti-crisis. The dog descendent from what is firecracking in temporary fear from the fire.
Little is for the worse, little more than an abscess on the hoof. There are human sources of respite, and this is evidence. A horse, a dog, a wolf – a home, a motive to resign to the nearest place.
What is referred to locally as a glass palace, where millions of animals die eating the hair from their own bodies, to be naked come spring. Note this down, or remember it. A country without traditional knowledge in a difficult transition.
Protection from wolves is a body that keeps man going, making paths, repelling into mineshafts, our friends stolen for food must be won back.
When your time arrives it will come. Living with one hundred families, the Asov sea as pardon, the Crimea as relief. The road embryo to hundreds of us and animals.
Driven by prospect of not a thought but promise, to not forget, to the truth that that’s the transaction. For you they do this, portable, mobile, beckoned lifespan. Steppe remembered through one who met you.
Part of The Learned Pig’s Wolf Crossing editorial season, spring/summer 2017.
Image credit: Alan Fieldus, steppe in Uvs Province, Mongolia, 2014.
Via Flickr
