
Before he fled, he ran through the stable blocks and loosed the horses rather than leave them to burn or to starve to death locked in their pens.
Sometimes when I think of Iran, the summer of 1979 before a people's hard-won freedom was scattered by the wind, I imagine the Arab horses galloping through the suburbs of the city, past the houses and the factories towards the desert--and pray that they at least never were recaptured.