I was in the back of a Pretoria junk shop, when I came across a zoetrope under a dusty canvas cover. A predecessor of film, the instrument consists of a metal cylinder that, when sent spinning, sets a series of images pasted in its interior in motion. Inside of that particular model was a sequence of identical chestnut horses, each in a slightly different running position. I turned the cylinder, put my eye to a slot, and the horse began its staccato canter.