What are the words the Katy's essay in the movie flicka?

Answer 1

I live on top of the World in the never summer mountains of Wyoming, 8,000 feet closer to the sky. In my mountains, when spring finally comes to save me from a perpetual winter the world comes to life again and I remember what it is I'm here for. I'm the only daughter in along line of ranchers, and when we let our horses out for the first time every spring, I love to watch them rediscover the world. I can see in them an expression of my own restless spirit. Charged with an appetite for adventure they take to the land without hesitation. They are pure power. When I see them running wild I often think of the first horses and how they were the true pioneers of America. The stories we here of how the west was one were all lies. The history of the west was written by the horse. Wherever a settler left his foot print there was a hoof print right beside it. Man came further and further west to stake their claims on the great American wilderness, but they encountered a strength that could not be tamed: wild horses. The settlers called them parasites that could strip the land and starve their own herd. They couldn't domesticate them so they destroyed them. Isolated and hungry they were on their way to disappearing from the face of the earth. Sometimes when the lie disappears an after image remains, just for a moment mustangs are an after image. No better than ghosts, hardly there at all. No one really wants them not ranchers, not city people. That's their destiny; let them disappear once and for all with all the other misfits, loners and relics of the wilderness no one cares about anymore. Lucky for us a few mustangs survived, hidden away in the mountains. We need to protect them for them, for they are the hope for some kind of living memory of what the promise of America used to be, and could be again. I believer there is a force in this world that lives beneath the surface; something primitive and wild that awakens when we need an extra push just to survive, like wildflowers that bloom after a wildfire burns the forest black. Most people are afraid of it and keep it buried deep inside them, but there will always be a few people who have the courage to love what is untamed inside of us; one of those men is my father. There was once a time when Americans came west to discover their destiny. Today they seem to move around in every which where, restless and unsettled, but I think they're still looking for the same thing: a place where they can be optimistic about the future, a place that helps them be who they really want to be, so they can feel that this life makes since. A place where they can feel what I feel when I'm riding Flicka, because when we're riding all I feel is…free. These are the words to the essay in the beginning of the movie, the anger essay in the middle after her dad sold Flicka, and the inspirational speech at the very end of the movie!!!

Answer 2

I live on top of the world in the never summer mountains of Wyoming, 8000 feet closer to the sky. In my mountains, when spring finally comes to save me from a perpetual winter, the world comes to life again and I remember what it is I'm here for. I'm the only daughter in a long line of ranchers and when we let our horses out for the first time every spring, I love to watch them re-discover the world. I can see in them an expression of my own restless spirit. Charged with an appetite for adventure they take to the land without hesitation. They are pure power. When I see them running wild I often think of the first horses and how they were the true pioneers of America.

The stories we hear of how the west was won were all lies. The history of the west was written by the horse. Wherever a settler left his foot print there was a hoof print right beside it. Man came further and further west to stake their claims on the great American wilderness, but they encountered a strength that could not be tamed: wild horses. The settlers called them parasites that could strip the land and starve their own herd. They couldn't domesticate them so they destroyed them. Isolated and hungry they were on their way to disappearing from the face of the earth. Sometimes when the lie disappears, an after image remains. Just for a moment, mustangs were that after image. No better than ghosts, hardly there at all. No one really wants them. Not ranchers, not city people. That's their destiny; let them disappear once and for all with all the other misfits, loners and relics of the wilderness no one cares about anymore. Lucky for us a few mustangs survived, hidden away in the mountains. We need to protect them, for they are the hope for some kind of living memory of what the promise of America used to be, and could be again.

I believer there is a force in this world that lives beneath the surface; something primitive and wild that awakens when we need an extra push just to survive, like wildflowers that bloom after a wildfire burns the forest black. Most people are afraid of it and keep it buried deep inside them, but there will always be a few people who have the courage to love what is untamed inside of us. One of those men is my father. There was once a time when Americans came west to discover their destiny. Today they seem to move around in every which where, restless and unsettled. But I think they're still looking for the same thing: a place where they can be optimistic about the future, a place that helps them be who they really want to be so they can feel that this life makes sense. A place where they can feel what I feel when I'm riding Flicka, because when we're riding, all I feel is…free.