Amedeo Modigliani Red Nude

But he felt it now for the first time – a sort of longing, not for a place, but for a state of mind, for being just an ordinary felt the same way about other horses which had rather less supernatural lifestyles. He certainly looked impressive compared to the others, which regarded him watchfully. Binky was a real horse – the blisters of the shovel handle on Mort's hands were a testimony to that – and compared to the others he looked more real than ever. More solid. More horsey. Slightly larger than life.
In fact, Mort was on the verge of making an important deduction, and it is unfortunate that he was distracted, as he walked across the yard to the inn's low door, by human being with straightforward things to worry about, like money and sickness and other people. . . .'I shall have a drink,' he thought, 'and perhaps I shall feel better.'There was an open-fronted stable at one side of the main building, and he led Binky into the warm, horse-smelling darkness that already accommodated three other horses. As Mort unfastened the nosebag he wondered if Death's horse