I will never know what it is like to wear the shoes of a black man in a small white town. To wear the shoes of a Japanese in California in 1941, that too, I’ll never know. I’ll never really know what different shoes would bring me nor different times would show me but I do know my own shoes I fill and I fill them well. Being blind or Visually Impaired comes with it something I never ever knew and I could never ever compare it to some other shoes. But my shoes, I know all too well. And, in them I come to find a new me who you see through nothing but my shoes. No pity I beg of you, I am no different than before these shoes came true. I am still me, still the same, older, growing and changing as you do to. Woes me I beg, not from me. For what I can not see I am blind to but for what you don’t understand you, too, are blind to. One moment on a bus seat, next to me, one conversation 16 blocks long, and the world can change for one, one at a time. Some take only 3 blocks long, some never get off the bus. If all was well in blindville, I’d for ever never need to write no more. But, behind the curtain, behind the shades, perception changes instantly and forever. I’m here for the long term and hopefully, I’m only about a 7 block long bus ride. I hope you get it. Enjoy the ride. All aboard! Oh, by the way, Nice shoes.