Piotruś

No madness. This is what Piotruś is killing for today. And what do you think?

40 hours. $245 deposit for him instead of going nuts.

I don’t even know your name.
And shared with others than my good friends. And also share it on “You”. Sorry, that’s just how we all call each other here in Centaurus.

Because I guess that’s what happens when people connect a big issue – and I constantly have the idea that I can’t go any further without you.

And do you know why?

For example. Recently Mrs. Marta called.
She went out to the estate.
She knocked from door to door. She collected $3 from her neighbors. She raised $135! She sent it. She cried when she called. That people are wonderful. She asked for a sweatshirt with a logo. To keep collecting.

And Mr. Robert always calls when we have a breaking point. Recently he sent us $245 and ordered us a “chocolate cake”, and the rescued horse arrived – followed by a cake after a while. Burn those calories – we just feel how much you are with us. And the boys in the stable haven’t seen a cake for years…

But I’m talking about sweatshirts and cakes, and we also have a very important issue today.

A photo without any fuss. I sent it to several smaller newspapers, but each one wrote to me that the photo needed to be improved. More blood, more emotions, and make it look bigger.

Believe me, Piotruś had huge eyes when the trader entered the barn and approached him with a stick. The pony crouched in the corner and closed his eyes, as if ready for a blow.

There was no blow. That is, not in front of me. Because looking at those huge eyes, black as two coals – he got hit more than once because the soup was too salty.

I don’t know his story.
It’s an old pony. Older than coal. He stands on shaky wooden legs and stares into my lens.

Chocolate cake won’t help. Overgrown hooves, a bent spine, sunken temples and eyes full of hope that the end will somehow be different. Different than everything behind it.

No matter what. These newspapers and the fact that Piotruś is not crazy with his photos. Because it’s not about madness.

The idea is to prevent old, worn-out ponies from dying in the barns of this world. After all, the history of Poland rides on a horse’s back.

Let’s fight today. Let history turn around. Let’s get Piotruś out of this place.

To a place where there are hundreds like him. To the place where, when we stop believing that we will succeed, it suddenly smells like chocolate cake.

You are our everything.
And his everything.
I won’t tell you anything more about him.
Still, despite the lack of blood, are you ready to tell the world the story of a completely ordinary pony who goes to death on Tuesday night?