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Walk A Mile in My Shoes

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In the doorway between what might as well be two worlds is a pair of shoes. No one, at least no one to the discernible eye, inhabits these shoes. Motionless, they stand uneven sentry on the threshold of rooms. It is a ghostly place, this space that is neither here nor there, a sort of limbo where the path lies before and after. The end of the year approaches, as does the beginning.

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