Way back when I was about 16, we had an night at the manège that is etched in my memory.
It was a "perfect" moment.
But it didn't start that way, it started out as a very, very imperfect evening. Mssr. Godot wanted us to passage and the horses just wouldn't. They leaned on the bits too much, some were too fast, others didn't passage so much as fade to a walk from lack of energy. And he sat in his booth overlooking the arena, calling out "Tempo! Tempo! Non, non, non!…
ContinueAdded by B. G. Hearns on May 29, 2012 at 5:49pm — 15 Comments
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