When the entire city went to the main square to protest governments,
a Flirty Horse stayed in her courtyard to draw blue flowers on the wall with the help of her tail.
“Wish us luck at least, you silly, politically unconscious girl,”- her neighbour said.
He was a twenty-two years old guy, and he knew things. A Flirty Horse didn’t respond, she was busy with drawing, and the guy left.
During the months of revolution, a Flirty Horse used to wake up at six o`clock every day to add a couple more blossoms to her painting.
When the civil war started, she preferred to hide from bombs and bullets in the basement, where she was preparing the blue paint, and once the guns and cannons quieted down, she went out and continued her work.
In that very moment her neighbour returned home.
He was now twenty-three, he lost a leg on the battle field and now he was not sure at all, if he knows anything.
He entered the courtyard and faced gorgeous inflorescence of delphiniums, that embraced his entire house.
“So many flirty whores, and only one Flirty Horse,” – he admitted with a bitter grin.
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