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Dirty feet

So, I love to be outside. I love Alfred’s tower and I love to walk barefoot in the rain.

It was raining rather profusely a few days ago but dried off in the evening. I decided to take a walk to defragment my brain drives. I walked barefoot in the mud. Conifer needles and leafmould merged into the damp soil creating something quite firm underfoot. I enjoyed the way it squished slightly between my toes.

The grassy patches between the trees held my weight better. Happily I seem to be genetically advantaged for boggy walking. My feet are wide and there is a big gap between my big toe and first toe.

There is something very primal about barefeet. Shoes and boots protect our feet. Isolate them from cold, heat, wetness, sharps…

Do we really ‘feel’ the ground we walk on?

I have left footprints. They will wash away overnight but they are impressions of my feet. My toes, heels and soles. Not a mass produced bootprint but my footprint.

I was here. I am actually real, not a deranged figment of my own imagination. I am alive and I exist.

Or perhaps just in this corner of the multiversal conciousness….

I am going to try and visit the woods more often, the petrol is frankly a luxury but the exercise and peace of mind is not.

Captain Purky x