Soleful Existence
Andrew Cutter

	There stands one lone, black, leather shoe.  The shoe itself has been around for a generous amount of time.  Upon further inspection of the shoe, one may notice the wear of that time on its very skin.  Its toe shows the roughness caused by several gentle kicks to a door, or perhaps to a table leg.  A small indent marks the place above the toe, an indent that appears on many long-worn shoes, an indent whose creation is a mystery.  Moving further along towards the tongue, the wrinkles in the fine leather skin, punctuated by minor scratches and frayed stitching, tell the tale of a thousand steps taken.  The shoe is wise beyond its years, having witnessed funerals, weddings, and endless days of education.  Death.  New beginnings.  Life itself is engrained in the shoe’s exterior.  Its sides are marred by a dozen scuff marks: scrapes against walls, attacks from other shoes, and every day wear and tear.  The tongue has become distorted over the years.  It is crisscrossed by one long, woven lace made of synthetic fibre coated with a friction-increasing agent.  It ripples under the varying movements of the lace and its leather has become smooth and fragrant.  The underside of the tongue is something of a curiosity.  Beige in colour, the black inner stitching holding the leather together becomes much more apparent and a printed phrase dominates its centre.  The words, not likely understood by their producer, read ‘Fabrique en India’ and underneath, ‘Made in India.’  They speak of a land far from the shoe’s current home and are a reminder of its long journey across the continents.  It tells of a growing globalization of economy.  Ironically, the country of origin holds the cow, giver of life to the shoe, sacred.  The interior of the shoe is dark, mysterious, and generally foul-smelling.  It is the home of the shoe’s sole.  It is the heart of the shoe and its binding piece; all of the shoe’s activity relies on this one long, uninterrupted conglomeration of leather, rubber, and other artificial materials.  The beige colour has been darkened by endless days of rubbing against a black sock and shallow impressions mark the resting place of the mighty shoe’s passenger, the foot.  The foot carries a strange towering figure far above the shoe, leading him over mountain, valley, grove and plain.  Seemingly, the shoe is under this figure’s control: he determines where the shoe will go and how long it will be in his service.  Ultimately, the shoe will leave the possession of this figure and continue on with its own journey.  It will be ‘discarded,’ perhaps travelling to a new owner, perhaps ending up in a heap of other discarded possessions.  Where will it be in ten years?  One hundred?  One Thousand?  In the end the shoe will disintegrate and return to nature.  It’s essence, the very atoms that make up the molecular structure of the shoe may one day build a towering blade of grass, be consumed by a cow and the cycle will begin anew.  A shoemaker of the future will look into the field and say, “There stands one lone, black cow fit for a leather shoe.”