By the time I was 18, I’d fallen in love a hundred or so times. One of my victims was a racehorse called Wollow, and like most of my relationships, it was fun while it lasted, but at the end, I felt kinda let down. They later said that a piece of metal, a fastener, had twisted under her saddle. Twisted under her saddle, pierced her flank and distracted her.… READ MORE.... …