A black cat is unlucky, crossing the road from left to right. But what of these two white horses, that trot in front of me from somewhere to the right, out of this dazzling Sunday morning? The day seems charmed, because of them or no—with pear tart in the oven, and Mahler in the afternoon, and no sign of the rain clouds which have dogged us so persistently for months on end. Beware the Ides of March, perhaps—but the day before appears full of good fortune.
Auguries not in birds, but in white horses.
image: White horse portrait at sunset. Taken in Melbourne, Victoria, Australia, Fir0002
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