obituary

On June 17th, something very close and dear to me died. My Chaco flip-flops. They didn’t die as much as they fell out of my bike bag. Although, I did have to bring them to the shoe repair guy at the marche on 4 separate occasions. I had worn these shoes almost everyday for the last year and they were with me as I grew-up from college graduate to globe-trotting adult. They were with me when I had my first glimpse of the big wide world; traveling to 8 countries and 3 continents. Now I’m left to wear the same tapettes every Togolese has, costing about sixty cents. I’m apprehensive as to whether they can provide the same support and grow with me. I’ll just have to suffer until the new pair my parents sent arrives.