Blood Mares

The sun is shining. I stand on the edge of a paddock and watch a mare and her foal. The little one goes wild, but if anything is what scares it, it quickly runs to mom. It hides there and feels safe, secure and safe. It’s so good to see that, but then I can’t help but think of a report I recently saw about mares that were supposed to become mothers, but never were allowed to, because the baby was cruelly snatched from them ahead of time, unborn, directly from the womb, by cutting open the amniotic sac and taking out the little one, just to throw it on the trash. And because all of this is so horrible that you don’t want to know anything about it, it doesn’t happen behind closed doors, but far from prosperity and bourgeoises, in Uruguay and Argentina. And why the whole thing?