In a random neighbourhood in Assela, What looks like a royal procession is actually two horses dressed like they’re heading to a cultural fashion week, complete with dramatic red tassels that clearly did not come cheap. Meanwhile, the real supervisors sit on the ground like exhausted consultants, holding sticks as if negotiating with the horses about productivity targets. The field behind them stays politely neutral, as if it has seen enough drama for one morning. The horses with a fashion statement and a commonly known decorum await their next destination for the day.

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