What is love but a push in the wrong direction? We took a left turn, a right turn – whichever it was that sent us in the wrong direction.
And I was never impressed by horses. As I stood with you, once, on the laneside while they passed – my disdain, you thought, reserved for the riders. What was I doing there, anyway? Why was I out in the woods? The open air, the countryside, the animals: a similar stink.