Whenever my father and horses are in the same dream, I know everything is going to be all right. That he was haggling over a room service bill for two beers and a glass of white wine is beside the point. His mere presence is soothing to me, oddly enough, even as a disembodied voice at the end of a phone line.
strolling on the pampas I rather love this.
Posted by misswhistle
at 17:07 PDT