Max visits

I have a heavy, continuous feeling of living my last days here. I am not quite sure whence this feeling springs: maybe I am manufacturing it because I wish it to be so? Maybe I am feeding on the advice of the two people with whom I have spoken about it: my potential literary agent in London who says that if I do indeed think that it is the end here I should gather the information necessary to ‘wrap it up’. Peter, the Swedish ambassador who passed by here not long ago by also thought I must observe life around me now, note things down  and make the most of these days, because later all the precious details will be gone.  Therefore I am living my days in a sort of heightened sensitivity, which is quite tiring... 

Today  the lovely Max suddenly returned  from the past, ridden by the Fulani Horseman I knew a long time ago.  The Fulani had found him wandering on the road to Senossa, seemingly lost. He thought he still belonged to me and rode him here.

But I had sold Max in January 2012, deciding that I was unable to support the expense of two horses any longer.  Max  had remained with us for nearly six years when I made the hard decision to get rid of him.  To see him again made me quite sad. I thought of my dear Pudiogou and of all the good times we had during so many years:  I rode any one of my succession of horses but Pudge always rode Max . He was the only one to manage to get any life out of him. Max is beautiful but lazy.  Regardless of his charcoal exterior he was always something of a dumb blonde.  He had not lost any of his good looks or his sweet nature, and I was almost tempted to keep him, but soon thought the better of it: what would I do with him without Pudge?  So I gave the Fulani some money to make a communiqué at the local radio station to tell the owner where to find him. Then he left on the lovely Max... I cried a few tears  and then, with my sunset whisky on the terrace I got even more sentimental and called Birgit who said she thought that Max  had come to say good bye...