barefoot - quotes and descriptions to inspire creative writing
I love being barefoot in these cozy months of blossom and bright dayshine. I love to feel the fine wands of grass tickle my soles. There's a kind of freedom to it, that natural feel I suppose. It's good, calming.
Barefoot shoes are the only thing folks wear now, but really they're just toughened socks in a modern material. Sweat can get out but no moisture gets in. Don't ask me how it all works, it's just as much a mystery to me as flash drives and compressed air motor cars. They work though, very comfortable, like a second skin.
After so long walking this road barefoot my feet have toughened. The skin that was once so tender has more resistance to the roughness of the path. The walking gets a little easier with each rising and setting of the sun. Without the soreness of my soles there is time to appreciate the fragrance of the air, the sweet summer perfume I missed in the cold months. I never would have chosen to discard my shoes, but now that I can travel without them I don't mind at all.
Barefoot is the only way folks travel around here, the only shoes being worn by the horses. As children they play in the red dirt, the powder settling on their young skin, the only protection from the intense sun they ever get. But all that play prepares them for the life they will lead in a few short years. Feet must be tough and travel-ready, not sensitive to every little rock on the trails.
Barefoot with a bottle of Merlot, Sebastian stepped onto the verandah, his skin cast in soft coppery hues by the setting sun. Grace smiled. Just seeing him there made their house a home. Without him it would be just timber and nails. He sank into the swing chair and poured into the glasses on the side table, naked toes wiggling in the night air.
We had taken off our shoes in the car a couple hours ago, already eager for the seashells and surf our destination would bring. My sister and I jerked forward then backward as our dad parked on the familiar road. Yanking the door open, I ran out onto the searing asphalt. Hop, jump, tiptoe speedily. Different methods of getting past the blacktop were tried (giving a new meaning to the game "the floor is lava") until we had reached the sand. It wasn't much better. I dashed through. Sinking and burning was not an option. As the scorching sands numbed my feet, I knew I had to speed up. And suddenly, I was there, at the holy grail of beach sand. It was moist. It was cushiony. Most of all, it was cool. I let the sand ooze over my feet. Earning this comfort was why I was here.
Barefoot was a punishment. Go to bed late or leave a sock on the floor and they took your shoes. Outside the dorm was all flint stones, the ten kilometre run was over rough country with rocky screes, thick forest and scrubby embankments. But the worst part was going back through the alley. That's where all the druggies were, one needle poke and you could be infected with all manner of nasty things. Your feet were cut and bruised by the end of it. One kid they punished was diabetic, that infection was almost the end of him. He was lucky to get out of it with just one amputated foot. Then they shipped him off to who knows where because he couldn't do the labor anymore.
I was barefoot so often that the skin on my feet became thicker than most peoples. Sometimes the skin on my heals would dry and crack. At first I ignored it, I wasn't the type for fancy creams and ointments. But then some cracks went right down to the living dermis and I started to worry about infections. The cheapest remedy turned out to be diaper cream, so I transferred the contents to a less embarrassing tub. Now I sometimes wear those shoes with toes, it's like barefoot but better for my skin. I'd never wear shoes all the time though, I'd miss the feel of rain kissed soil and sand between my toes.
Delilah always ran barefoot in the park no matter the weather. In summer she looked like a nature freak, in winter folks assumed her to be a nut-ball of the highest order. She did three laps and left, finding it funny the amount people would spend on barefoot running shoes instead of just using their feet.
Running barefoot changed everything about Tina's gait. Instead of a heel-strike the ball of her foot came down first. There was no shockwave to travel up her leg and so the rest of her body felt better too. After a few weeks the awkwardness had gone, the new aches subsided and she was sold on barefoot. Sure she got a few more scrapes and watched her footfalls more intently, but the freedom was worth it.