Shoes lay abandoned, forsaken and forgotten.
Once-proud, tall, glamorous heels sat beside discarded slip-ons and superfluous slippers congregated with redundant odd sling-backs.
Velcro was unstuck, laces untied, buckles rusted and straps broken. Even thigh-high boots had lost their appeal, and thrust-aside trainers littered the pavement beside unwanted sandals.
All sat silent and lost, except for a roller-skate which creaked forward in quiet desperation when the wind blew.
Now feet were bare and unprotected since mankind discovered the ability to defy gravity.
He hovered, freshly appointed, wondering whether the new power of levitation stretched to the reorganisation of shoes…
Photograph by Lisa Shambrook (Please do not use without permission)
Sometimes I feel like I’m taking up too much of the pavement, and I make myself even smaller, pulling my holey jumper down over my knees and lacing my fingers tighter around my legs.
I try to be invisible even though I’m screaming to be seen.
I watch feet; I study shoes. Stomping brogues, clip-clopping heels, delicate sandals, cowboy boots, little girls’ T-bars, skyscraper stilettos, boys’ tatty trainers, sensible-for-work flats and flip-flops in the rain all pass me by.
This time it’s a pair of smart knee-highs that knock my nearly-empty, polystyrene cup of pennies flying…and yes, I am invisible.
Come back tomorrow for Day Five and Part Two of Flood…