Triumph Over the Soul

Shoe Shopping

An orange mass. The spin of ferocious tires. The squeal of the transmission. A quick stop at a friend's house. Then back to the squealing. Time slows down and speeds up, all depending on how fast I want to get there.

The store is wide, with plenty of secret caves and hidden mysteries.

But I'm only here for shoes. 

I'm drawn to the colorful ones. Though they are by no means my favorite. 

Each one tells a story, and each one lets your story be told. 

I pick a modest pair-- all black. 

I shove them on. They fit perfect. 

Discarding my older pair, I purchase the new ones. 

My story has been rewritten, changed, started anew.