A Muse and a Little Magic.

I saw or heard something recently (alas, I forget what it was) which left me with the thought that none of us can have the remotest idea of what life is about until our consciousness learns to see itself for what it really is. It occurred to me that maybe that’s the secret of enlightenment. If I get any further, I’ll post it here.

*  *  *

And today I saw something close to magical on a nondescript street in nondescript little Ashbourne. There was a pristine, pale cream Hansom cab waiting to convey the bride and groom from their wedding at the nearby registrar’s office to wherever newly married couples retire after the ceremony. The Hansom cab was, indeed, handsome, but it paled beside what stood ahead of it: two magnificent, jet black horses, 16 hands apiece and identical as a brace of twins given genesis in some magical realm. I suppose that was the point. I suppose they were meant to symbolise the romantic and tragically ill-conceived notion that there is something magical about the state of matrimony. When it comes to the matter of magic, I’ll take the horses. I so wanted to reach out and touch these two, but it seemed disrespectful.