I trust my feet in a different way than I do my head or heart. When the other two yield confusion, my feet remain authentic and fluent, and through having faith in their wisdom I have learned what I could never have learned elsewhere. My feet are more aligned with an instinct of the shire-horse; they take me places and they do not judge. They speak like the eye wrinkles of an old man to whom bullshit is offensive and wholly unnecessary in the general order of things.
My feet on a train seat. Autumn, 2013.
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