This is life seen humorously through the sardonic non-matching eyes of Willows Picasso. She never had rose-tinted specs, though they might have concealed her odd eyes. One is normal horsey-hued brownish blue, the other a disconcerting azure. She is a horse - or rather, a pony. There are no flies on her, or if so - rarely, and she tolerates the two-legged race with smug disdain.

In support of this, Picasso regularly reflects upon the feeble ineptitudes of SHE, her particular two-leg, who lives with her in the Scottish Highlands.