Perspective

Riding on the bus this morning through the open country, here's a stretch of ground where four horses are pulling at a hay bale, or just sitting, pondering the big metaphysical questions as horses do, in the morning cold. "I feel sorry for them stuck out there," says a girl in the seat in front of me, through her slicked-down hair, in her anonymous white blouse and plain black trousers, with a heavy briefcase on her knees, travelling to another eight hours at the office.