sewing_through_the_fold raze the girl who worked at two different jewelry stores followed me out into the cold, black sandals on my feet, suitcase in hand. who wears sandals in the snow? i sat to change into brown shoes, shoes that were new to my eyes but fit my feet fine, and she said things i made a point of filing away for later, knowing when the time came to look for them they would be gone. the right shoe became the pages of a homemade book, its laces thick string to bind the pages, and i hugged the face of it against my chest, thinking maybe behind that was where the important words would be. i felt no great need to read them. knowing they might be there was enough. 131227 what's it to you? who go blather from