Story, story for the boots

‘One does not need a topic in order to write a good feuilleton,’ the Frenchman declared. ‘One simply needs to know how to write well.’

‘Now that’s going a bit too far,’ McLaughlin objected. ‘Without a topic even a verbal acrobat such as yourself cannot produce anything worthwhile.’

‘Name any object you like, even the most trivial, and I will write you an article about it that my paper will be delighted to print,’ said Paladin, holding out his hand. ‘Shall we have a wager? My Spanish saddle for your Zeiss binoculars.’..

‘Well, why not those old boots of yours?’ (for the subject)

Turkish Gambit by Boris Akunin (translated by Andrew Bromfield)

Thus, a story about old leather boots was written by Paladin and printed by Le Revue Parisienne (or so the novel says)

Why did I bring this up? Why did I share this long quote with you? It’s simple. It’s my new boots, rather UGG BOOTS

20160716_170310[1]

Yeah, they are brand new and still with tags attached. They are blue with white snowflakes all over them. They are cute rather than beautiful. They are comfy rather than fashionable. But they deserve their own story, an origin story (like superheroes), a story behind the choice to by them.

I am a mother of a teenage lady, but I still like snowflakes on my boots. I love to laugh. I love to smile at cute and cuddly. I love not take things seriously.

I’ve lived most of my life in Australia, but I still long for snowflakes of Saint-Petersburg and Riga. I ache for the first snow in the season (if you ever watched Gilmore Girls as mush as I have, you know the significance of the first snow).

I’ve had my heart broken so many times, it does not mend completely but I still remember snowflakes during the season of my first love: all the snowball fights, ice skating ring, hockey, walks in the white streets. All covered in white and soft. All sounds muted. All senses are acute. It was wonderful. It was the first. It was never to be repeated again.

Snowflakes on blue, soft sheepskin on my skin, what could be better in cold winter evenings. A lot of things, actually. However, I am so ridiculously happy with my snowflakes, I’ve decided to give them a story. This is the beginning of it…


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