Some online gaming friends of mine from Gibraltar told me there is a new app that helps people read large documents quickly. It somehow lets you read every about every fifth word.

The brain assimilates and adjusts to tell you the full story.

Let us put it to the test.

A oooo oooo o ooooooo o car, oooooooo, oo ooo oooooo they ooo ooo. oooo oooooooo o ooo sex oo oooo oo sofa. ooo oo oooo ooo bruise oo oooo oooooo oooooo oo wine.

ooo mini ooo oooooooo ooooooo ooo field. ooo husband ooo oooo me.

ooo cottage ooo ooo ooooooo knock oo ooo oooo. She ooo oooo oo ooo kiss, oo ooo tiled oooo.

oooooooooo farm ooo oo ooooo o stove. ooo ooooooo ooo music ooo oo iron ooo.

oo ooo fight ooo oo ooo lick oo oooo.

ooo police oooo ooo ooooo oo ooo cells. oo ooo pillow, ooo ooo oooo, o  red oooo.

Late ooo ooooo, ooo knocking, ooo oooo ooo shattered. oo ooo ooooo oooo tear oo paint, oooo ooo oooo, ooo officer oooo ooo away. oo ooo oooo ooooo over.

I think it works, but you are not picking up the real truth hidden in this story.

You are filling in the gaps with your own imagination and subconscious.

We are moving into dangerous territory, this is how denial works.

It may make a compelling story, but one that just does not represent the truth.

My story is a simple Love Story. The truth however is one of complete Horror.

It is so bad I cannot begin to write it, so to do so would mean gaps, and gaps leave possible denial.

Learn the lesson , understand it, bury it. If only it was that easy.

Slightly earlier than I had become accustomed to, I headed down the commute to the beach. My office is the beach, but there was no work planned for this day so heading in early seemed a little strange.

Just after the brow of the hill past Montenmedio, you hit the Finca whose logo looks tike Anchor Eight. 

Some of the most beautiful horses are schooled in the roadside arena. I am always reminded that I am from a different culture, and this one is so far from my comprehension, it hurts.

Then there is the meadow, in which there are usually deer, bulls, cows , donkeys and horses.  And there it was, the Silver Horse. It did not look real, somewhat like a statue you might see in London.

It glistened in the morning sun, not a shade apart from dark grey silver. Its muscle form exposed by the glorious monotony of its slick back hair.

I want to stop to take a photo but don't. It would not be for me, a photo, a horse, not for me but for her.

We can quit, but the triggers are everywhere.

For certain that was a very special horse, either that or I am living in a fantasy dream. Its perfectness was apparent to the ignorant me.

Somethings are just not disputable.

The Feria this spring had opened my eyes to the local love and skills of horsemanship. The Andalusian animals are different, as in the same way as a dancer clenches his buttocks, these horses draw in from behind.

Optimising this agility, they do a dressage that is completely gypsy. Like the brash Flamenco costumes the senora's wear, this can only be a showing of virility.

Dashing forward and stopping suddenly from one side of the small rectangular arena to the other. Tight pirouettes and thrusting fetlocks.

By the early evening a few of the young dudes in flat caps had brightly colored babes wrapped around their saddles and were heading off up past my place to the bull ring.

It was more than a Bull Fight. A crashing entrance full of raw energy, a sharp pain in the neck, the annoying stabbing of darts, a dance of deceit and the inevitable.

All the while you hear the sound of trumpets and drums, the ever growing crescendo,  you are trapped in the sandy ring of death.

Drawn to the red, you know its wrong, but something inside keeps driving you that way. Every pass is met with a sidestep.

Standing, panting, blood pouring, whilst your partner prostitutes themselves to entertain the shallow crowd.

Time and time again, burning ears, the taunt, "I love you, I love you", you charge in again.