An ode to a holy sole.

My sole is thinning.

My shoes were once nice - burgundy leather. But they represent mere husks of their former glory today.

So thin are my soles that I can feel each and every speck of loose gravel on my way into town. So holy is my sole that the cold winter air sneaks in and grips my feet. Sometimes little stones get in, too.

However, stones and gravel aside. The puddle is the nemesis of every holy soler. Indeed one of the key characteristics of a holy soler is the frequent scrunching of the neck as they step back into a puddle of icy water. You can almost feel your socks sucking the water in. For you full solers imagine to stepping in a puddle of shower water in your freshly put on socks.

Every day is battle for my our type. I have had to train my observations skills to avoid stones, puddles and frost.

Because if your feet are cold, everything's cold.