While I consider myself something of a livestock aficionado, I had never heard of, much less seen, a Racka sheep before. (pic: Wiki) The horns. That fleece. There is a black version. They're Hungarian. They make me happy.
What is freedom, when it is all that remains to you? In exile two brothers pursue an anarchist's trajectory, from an old world into the new, from East to West, subject always to the pleasures & horrors of an enduring flesh, to the ironies of karma & impunity. Love bears thorns, the lost return & the dead are haunted by the living. E P I C D A R K F I C T I O N
* R E A D * T H E B L A C K T H O R N O R P H A N S O N S I T E
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