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It’s 4:30am. It’s Sunday morning. There’s a bluesy tune on the playlist. And I’m finnaly making the big confession. I’ve a congenital problem. I don’t know how to pick shoes.
I just don’t. In my last attempt to buy a pair, I made sure at the shop that they were comfy. The result? Five blisters and a cranky mood. It’s no use. Everytime I give some pair of shoes a try, I end up crying for some sleazy sneakers. Some have born unable to distinguish colors. I’ve born unable to pick nice shoes.

3 strings to “confession”

  1. ana says
    17/Oct 18:32

    monday morning? :| who needs shoes anyway? confy sneakers rock.

  2. paulo says
    17/Oct 21:28

    Lack of sleep can have some weird effects like time travelling, :) Thanks for the correction.

  3. darae says
    18/Oct 10:39

    your shoes in utrecht weren’t that bad though… looked quite sporty…