April 6, 2013 § Leave a comment

I love being barefoot. It’s one of the first little things that dearest ones find out about me. As a kid I remember my dad  saying to my mother: “look, she’s barefoot again! Why are you doing that, you bizarre little thing?”. My mother would naturally come with a pair of socks in her hands which she’d end up finding all over the house. There was lots of sighing regarding the matter and some sassy smile from me as a reply. Me, barefoot, declaring my freedom to all the silly footdressed human creatures!

Mf giggles when he sees me barefoot and points out my habit every single time. That makes me feel like a fairy which is enough reason for me not to ever ever stop! On my last birthday he bought me a pair of fluffy sock-slippers. He suggested that it’s not shoes nor socks so I can still feel free while keeping my feet warm (not too warm though!). I admit at first I doubted that I’d get used to them, however they turned out adorable. As a matter of fact, I used them so much that the poor things are worn out and need to transcend to the realm of memoirs pretty soon. Of course, I still go barefoot when he’s at work and I’m meddling in the kitchen…

It’s my connection with the ground, with earth. When barefoot, your senses are ready, alerted. If it’s summer, those tiny cold signals travel from toes to head renewing you. If it’s winter, walking on warm carpets or even better wooden planks sets the mood for cuddling sessions. Try watering the flowers barefoot. Feel the dead leaves traveling under your feet, water flowing through your toes, you splashing tiny drops everywhere. Dressed with water’s transparency. Who can resist to the relief of the sea after walking on hot burning sand? Is there a faster way to travel back to childhood? Or being barefoot in grain fields, enjoying the tickling game that nature plays with you.

But most of all, it’s about a dream. That one day, I”ll dance barefoot on my captain’s deck. As his banshee queen…



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