“I’m afraid of my dream, I’m afraid of the morning, I’m afraid of this place and the people here. I am afraid of dealing with myself, I am afraid of the next day. I’m losing my mind with fear. I’m afraid and I’m alone … “James Frey once wrote, as if for him, for the mighty Atlas.
The great Atlas strikes his foot nervously on the concrete as a rumble echoes through the entire trading yard. December pours in fog here, and frost covers the grass, which stands out from the fallen, crookedly dried leaves. His enormous eyes measure everything around as if every detail was worth the weight of life. And death. Because here life and death weigh the same. He looks through everything as if he wants to remember and take these memories with him where he is going. Memories of where he spent the last moments of his life. After all, this is the second barn in his life. He thought that when he finally got out of the first one, he would be immersed in the chill of the wind and the tall, yellowed grasses. When he finally crashed out of the barn, the whistle of the whip cut through his skin and shattered all hope. Instead of plunging into the December wind and frost, the mighty Atlas was chased up a steep gangway. Half the village heard this roar. But no one came to his aid.
And don’t look no more for hope in his eyes, you will not see a sparkle. There is nothing left in his eyes but despair and fear. Do not look for the whole world there, it does not reflect there anymore, in this look full of pain and resignation. I know those eyes. First there is despair and panic, and then indifference is poured into them. And with this indifference they often go to the end. Because of the last breath. Otherwise, this last walk would be unbearable. Because where death lurks in every corner, the feeling that you’ve lost life grows with every minute. Even with as powerful and dignified as Atlas. He knows there is no way out of there. That sooner or later death would come to him, too, when the frost would compress the air on the window. There is no discount, there is no way to get out. And jerking or fighting for nothing. There is a sentence and there is a whip. He calls the rebellious horses to order. There is also a butcher’s rope that wraps tightly around Atlas’ big head. Nobody will take it off. Until the end comes.
People get attached quickly, that’s true. But they forget just as quickly. Today, no one remembers that Atlas remained faithfully at the host’s side all his life. That he was always ready to work and helped on the farm. Today no one remembers that he deserves a decent retirement for his service. Now, when the Christmas trees will light up and the world will be covered with snow, he has been exposed to slaughter. And for the last time it will make a man earn. On his death.
We become attached to cars, to phones, to other objects. We get attached to a comfortable life, to morning coffee, to the summer sun. We get attached to some people, to good company. We attach to what suits us, which gives us comfort and well-being. And when something wears out or becomes unnecessary, we can easily replace it. As with Atlas. He was a faithful companion, a good horse. But the years passed and he grew heavier and worth more and more as a slaughter horse. The attachment is over, it’s time to sell it. Because in Poland there is a clear division. There are breeding and sports horses, and there are also worse, slaughter horses. Guess which one ton Atlas belongs to?
Beloved, we ask you for help in saving Atlas. Let’s give him his life for Christmas. Let him immerse his warm nicks in the snow, let him soak in the mud, let the world around us reflect in his eyes. Let him not be afraid anymore. Let him not lose his mind. Let him not be alone this Christmas ..
The buy out date is January 11. The amount is PLN 13,700 (3364 USD). Purchase and transport. Monday, the winter start of the week. Right after Christmas. As we enter the New Year, 2022, Atlas may be looking at us from behind the clouds, or standing under the same sky.
Clouds, believe me, will wait. For each of us. At him too. If only you can make this happen.