Alis

(Latin for “wings”)

There are beings who carry their freedom not in their steps, but in what rises from their skin.

This horse is one of them. He is not running.

He is remembering how it feels to fly.

The birds around him are not just a flock, they are a memory of motion, a dream that never stopped beating inside his chest.

His body holds reins, yes. But something inside him doesn’t obey.

There’s a light in his eye, a spark that belongs to open fields, distant skies, wild choices.

Alis is the moment you feel the pull to go.

To leave the path they made for you, to follow the voice that says maybe there’s more.

The name comes from Latin — it means wings.

But it could just as well mean refusal, or hope, or longing.

Because sometimes, the wings aren’t visible.

They rise from within.

And the flight doesn’t begin when you run,

but when you decide: I will not stay where I am no longer meant to be.