Imagine that you are a horse. Born for freedom, the liberty of movement and decision-making, born with curiosity, responsible for your choices, even at the risk of paying the highest price. Programmed by millions of years of evolution to be extremely perceptive to danger, to flee as quickly as possible from the terrifying, unpleasant, painful, or suspicious. Your genes clearly tell you that you are truly safe only with the other members of the herd, and that alone you are nothing.

Yet, you were born for the delight of humans. This means you have no say in anything. Your owner will determine where you will be, who you will be with, how much time you will spend behind bars, what you will eat and in what quantity, what you will do, when you will move, how fast and with what intensity.

People come to you, whom you must tolerate. It doesn't matter if you know them or not, if they are pleasant to you or not, or what kind of energy they have. They lead you, and you must follow; they groom you, and you must stand still; they mount you, and you must carry them. You must not grimace, you must not lash out, you must not kick, you must not resist, because the consequences would be very painful. No one cares about your opinion. You have no voice, so you have nothing. Your task is to serve, because people feel you are paid for that.

They claim you have everything you need. But they don't care that they cause you immense pain. With ill-fitting bridles, crooked, ill-fitting saddles, senseless bits, sharp rope halters, blood-tightened nose bands and girths. They tie you up to make you muscular, submissive, and understanding. They force you to walk in humiliating positions. With your head to the ground, your chin on your shoulders, your back painfully arched. Because the trainer said so, and the others do it that way too.

Thousands of suffering horses, just like you, without the possibility of protest.

Rebellion, after all, is punished. With force and even greater pain. Only the bravest dare to defend themselves. Most give up, let themselves be broken. The horse's soul leaves the physical body in an attempt not to perceive the suffering and depression. The owner is satisfied, you are obedient. The emptiness in your eyes doesn't bother him, maybe he's even glad for it. He doesn't perceive his own body and soul, how could he perceive you? Total detachment in the name of haste, ego, and modernity.

They say they love you, but you are just a slave. This "love" is conditioned by performance. Don't try to stop fulfilling the plan, to collapse physically or mentally. You'd be sent away. Everyone is replaceable, that's life with humans.

And so you survive, day by day. Bars in the stall full of unhappy horses. A paddock without shade, hay or water. With frustrated horses, whose company you would never have chosen. Circling the arena in heat and cold, over and over again. Jumping into deep sand, pain, pressure, calls for help without response.

Smile nicely, try harder. After all, you're being paid for it.

But somewhere deep inside, you are still you. Born for freedom.