02/10/2026
I don’t think anyone can truly explain the meaning of life. Maybe each of us gives it a meaning of our own.
For me, life is the sum of what we feel. The emotions that move us, the moments that change us, the connections that become part of who we are. In the end, these are the things that remain — carried with us in our memories, long after the moment itself has passed.
Some memories make us smile. Others break our hearts. But perhaps a life deeply lived is a life in which we allow ourselves to feel both.
So cry when it hurts. Cry when you miss someone. But also cry when something is so beautiful that your heart cannot contain it.
Never be afraid of your tears. Some are born from pain, others from happiness — but all of them are proof that something truly mattered.
This carousel is for one of those connections that changed my life forever.
For those who want to read it, these are my words for BATISTAH 2001-2026
It’s Just a Horse
Yes, it’s just a horse.
And yet, the first time you see her, a shiver runs through your entire body.
It’s just a horse.
And yet your son, only six years old, in a stable filled with horses, always stops in front of her. He cannot explain why. Perhaps he does not know either. But somehow, something within each of them has already recognized the other.
Then she comes home. She enters your family and, day after day, becomes less and less “the horse” and more and more a part of you.
She is the one who brings you together.
She is at the heart of your days, your thoughts and your dreams.
She is family.
Yes, it’s just a horse.
And yet, although she had never been trained under saddle, she allows that little boy to climb onto her back. And in that moment, you understand that what connects them is not obedience.
It is trust.
It is a bond that needs no words.
While she rests, she does not even blink as that same child, now ten years old, lies across her back. She simply continues to rest, peaceful and untroubled, because she knows she can trust him.
When she becomes a mother, she keeps everyone away from her foal. She pins her ears, bares her teeth and protects her little one with all the strength she has.
Everyone—but not her family.
Because your children have somehow become her children too. They may approach her baby, stroke her and share that miracle with her.
Yes, it’s just a horse.
When she falls ill, you take turns so that she is never left alone. You stay awake through the night, and then feel overwhelming joy when she finally recovers.
She heals.
But how many times, over the years, was she the one who healed you?
How many times, when you felt sad, broken or defeated, did you go to her, wrap your arms around her and feel your heart slow down, your breathing become calmer and the weight inside you grow a little lighter?
In those moments, she was the one taking care of you.
I know—it’s just a horse.
For many people, that is all she will ever be. But for those with ears that know how to listen and a heart that knows how to love, being “just a horse” means so much more.
It means home.
It means family.
Sometimes, it means everything.
And when the time comes to say goodbye, you remain there beside her.
You hold her, stroke her and whisper that she is not alone. You tell her that you are there with her. You ask her to relax, not to be afraid, simply to let go—because at last, she can rest.
Even then, to the world, she is just a horse.
But to you, she is a piece of your heart breaking away and leaving with her.
Goodbye, Batistah.
We loved you beyond measure, but you gave us far more than we could ever have given back.
You will always be here with us, in our memories and in our hearts.
And know that, to us, you were never—
and will never be
—
just a horse.
