All it takes is a moment to catch the essence of a red coat, a pair of silver spurred boots, polished to shiniest black as the Cavalry Man vanishes out of the tack room. Wood panelling scratched and battered by years of use, the door swings, a dog circles then lies down in his basket and in the darkness there is the clatter of boots on the cobbled floor. Leather gleams, all pieces supple and polished with saddle soap. Nickel and brass shines on the buckle. There is a slick of hair oil, a gleam of bees wax and the texture of silver backed brushes. In the library a fire crackles, the hearth glows beyond a rosewood desk piled with leather bound books, a letter scrawled in Italian ink, and the lingering puff of black tobacco, lighter fuel tangled with the scent of horses, hoof oil and gunpowder. Exciting, evocative and eternal.
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