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Updated on 11/24/2021
Thank you for saving Paproszek!
In the end, he lived to see it! He finally got his five minutes. And even many, many more! Paproszek will be safe and he will enjoy a long and peaceful life on our farm. On his behalf, we thank you with all our hearts. Paproszek owes his life to you!
Look at the sky. Late afternoon. The cold November sun goes down somehow faster and nonchalantly. But it always gets up in the morning, for you, for me. And everything goes on. However, little Paproszek’s private sun will soon set. But that sun would never rise again for him. Because these suns of horses condemned to slaughter have it to themselves that they no longer return to the sky for them.
Paproszek wiggles for moment as I enter. I gently open the rusty door of the old barn, and he watches my every move closely. He cannot find his own corner, he stomps in place with his little hooves, he looks around at all sides of the world. Because it’s a place where nobody wants to settle in. Finally he looks into the lens and glows his black eyes for a moment. It’s the only thing that illuminates this place, those dark big eyes in which hope is burning. Hope to take him out of here today. Little, gray Paproszek that nobody wanted. Because if he wanted to, he wouldn’t be here today.
A place at the end of the world. This mighty barn that covers the whole big world. It is a gloomy, paved yard where even the autumn leaves of the trees do not peek, where nothing begins but everything ends. And that one little pony that came here from the house where he’d spent his whole life. Because Paproszek was standing at the farmer’s house, hidden in the barn and waited for his 5 minutes all winter and summer. For the moment when he, Paproszek, sets off on his little hooves, and his mane is blown away by the wind. But the wind seemed to pass him by, and the world did it all the time.
Once he felt the wind in his mane, the gangplank came down before him with a roar. Paproszek’s eyes filled with tears and his soul filled with terror. It was over, so many years of waiting, and nothing had come, and now it is all over. Because there are no people willing to buy Paproszek who knows nothing, doesn’t look like a million dollars or will not earn a zloty for their Lord.
So Paproszek entered, hoof after hoof, up that high gangplank. He walked slowly, head bowed, saying goodbye to his dreams, his cowshed and the wind that had ruffled his mane for the first and last time. As he reached the top, he hugged his rope. The first thing that is only his in this life, his own.
But this rope will also be taken from him. The wind would be taken from his mane. They will take away hope. When his eyes are filled with sorrow and then suddenly dim, the wind will roar through the shutters of the slaughterhouse unmoved. The nature of the wind. And that’s the nature of this brutal slaughter business. A business that doesn’t look back at little Paproszek and others like him. And for their dreams.
But we can look at Paproszk’s dreams. We can stroke his wet, warm nostrils. We can weave the November wind and sun into his mane and lead his little hooves to where the ponies live day and night according to nature. Where they gallop along the endless meadows of the reserve. Because this is the place where the Paproszek’s dreams come true.