Last night I walked home barefoot. The evening was warm and the day had been dry – besides, my new gold shoes had given me a little blister on the walk to work that morning which I didn’t want to make worse (I like to avoid even mild discomfort where possible). So, as I said, I walked home barefoot.
I walk the same route every night, but it felt totally alien just because I could feel the surfaces beneath my feet.
My journey became about different textures against the skin of my soles – warm, slightly soft tarmac; hard, gritty concrete; smooth cool slabs of sandstone; tough grass stalks and bits of fallen tree debris.
I’ll walk barefoot in the city more often.