My feet hurt. Not my soles. On top. Odd.
I like feet.
Do you know how many bones there are in a foot? No. Didn’t think you’d appreciate what a piece of art is that which carries you through life. Such a pity that people give so little thought to that which keeps them going, grounded, connected to planet earth by law of gravity.
In a moment of absentmindedness I spent time learning reflexology. Forget the term and its new age connotations. What reflexology is amounts to advanced foot massage. That’s all. Bliss. The feel good factor. In between lessons, back at the ranch, I used to practice on the Angel. Now he is a size, I don’t know, probably 11, 13 or some such (English that is); at the time his feet were tiny. So much easier to work a foot not yet adultered by having walked many of life’s miles.
Where was I? My feet aching on top. Strange sensation. And yes, during the training, when we practiced on each other my fellow students would gush (in gratitude – because there is nothing worse than gnarly toes and tough soles) how beautiful, tender, supple and pliable my feet were. They still are. Funny old world. Flying in the face of everything, considering that no heel has ever been too high for me, that I never take the easy way out and will walk everywhere.
So, when, tonight, you take off you socks, tights, stockings or any other foot gear look at your feet. Wriggle your toes and think of me. That’s