De stad, de provincie en de paarden, zijn zullen n kracht worden. The city of Groningen, its corresponding province and ponies — they would become one. That was what I heard as a filly, a whisper emanating from the fog that often surrounded my old house in Eemsmond’s north, almost ethereal in nature and followed by a weak flash. Without hesitation I galloped to where I believed the source lay — but nothing was there.

I was very intelligent, like North Brabantians (>>619854), and I couldn’t live a day without peering at the boats cleaving the Waddenzee’s waters. My cutie mark thus arose to represent both my unusually deep knowledge and the leaves popping out the shoreline which resemble those found in neighbouring Friesland (>>616259). But all this curiosity was driven by that childhood incident, that thing I couldn’t explain even though I was explaining everything (and winning major academic prizes) to ponykind. “Maybe I should be a little more inquiring. Maybe I should tell my past self to read more academic papers and less encyclopedias.”

So there I was, around fifty hands from my creaking and rusting birthplace, bespectacled and nervous at the prospect of wiping out my own existence — hey, time travel is never easy for first-timers — but I had in hoof a recently concocted spell and substantial insurance in case I drowned myself in past mire that is now exploited for natural gas, thereby erasing the technology I had developed for extracting said gas. With nothing else the enchantment sounded out with a breathy voice: “Gisteren en Vandaag en Morgen, Verenig!” Within seconds yesterday became today, but tomorrow also became today, and unlike the award-winning Italian film Ieri, oggi, domani I disappeared into time’s inner surfaces, which I then traversed.

When I thought of my destination it appeared beneath me in a circular picture, which I fell through. However, before I could pinpoint my filly self a deep mist enveloped me, whereby I became disorientated. I spent an entire hour wandering through a grey sea in futility, and I decided on retreating to my time with the same incantation, but not before uttering to myself “De stad, de provincie en de paarden, zijn zullen n kracht worden” — that was something I had improvised to lift my spirits. After returning with no bruises whatsoever, I facehoofed, realising what had been done: not only did some primeval magic ensure that history was consistent through my excursion, but it also taught me something! My utterance was heard by my younger self, who then resolved to learn everything she could about this world and thus “evolved” into my present self. A smile kissed my two red cheeks as I walked down an alley, finally secure in my capabilities.