I always wonder where my feet would go. Would they walk across the country? Would they visit with other feet? Sometimes I wonder what stories my feet would tell if I let them roam more. Can they see beyond the confines of my shoes, do they resent me for confining them in colorful socks and smelly sneakers? Would they be happier without carrying me around. I would certainly be tired of carrying someone as ungrateful as myself, forcing them to move when they are tired and sore.
I wonder if my feet converse with the bugs. Do they complain of my forgetfulness of trimming the nails? Do they taunt the insects underneath? Describing how they will squish them underneath, crushing their exoskeletons using my weight. Do they rejoice in their power? Do they forget how vulnerable they actually are? The tender padding and nerve endings not used to stepping on anything harder or sharper than the gravel on roads. I wonder if they wish to be tougher than they are.
My brain will motivate my feet to send urges to my conscience. Especially when the brain is clouded with thoughts. My feet will always solve my problems, taking me to where I need to go. They sometimes like to play pranks on me. They like to see me twitch and startle. Especially when I am not aware of what is around me. Though I still like to follow my feet. They have never steered me wrong, not yet anyway.
I would think we have a love-hate relationship. Drawing upon one another to get where we are ultimately going. I wish we could talk once in a while. Maybe question where they want to go, who they want to meet, and how they want to get there. I wish to know. I would want a similar situation to the Doctor and the TARDIS, though I would prefer that my feet not kiss me or bite my neck. That would just be awkward.
I would recognize this foot-spirit by there smell. Especially if we are in an enclosed space. Though they would probably be wearing the minimum amount of clothing. My feet prefer the open air. Or maybe I have it all wrong. Maybe my feet like the open air for the ease of sending urges for me to venture out. Urges to see the world and journey to places unknown. If this were true, then my feet would be the source of majority of my experiences in life.
For that I thank them.
Rough Draft 