Lonely Towpath Footslave

On the lonely 'toepath', a kindly stranger stops briefly to allow me to kiss her feet – my only human contact throughout the entire day (although, obviously, she is a vastly superior being to me and therefore, quite rightly, does not actually converse with me).

My only human contact of the day on the lonely 'toepath'...

...the BOOTS and SOCKS of a superior young woman

She is a complete stranger to me...

...so I am honoured that she has deigned to stop by me and give me a taste of her faux-sheepskin BOOTS

As well, of course, as a fantastic close-up view of her BROWN SOCKS!

Close enough to see the INDIVIDUAL STITCHES in her SOCKS!

For her haughty part, she, quite rightly, does not deign to speak to me

She knows that giving me a taste (and a smell) of her musty-smelling boots is honour enough for me

She therefore merely continues to smoke her cigarette high above me...

...occasionally glancing down at my abject lowliness and loneliness...

...before silently turning her back on me and continuing on her superior way

I humbly focus on the backs of her departing BOOTS and SOCKS...

...as she uncaringly walks out of my lowly life...

...coldly content that she has done her good deed for the day in humiliating a lonely, public humble head

Her lit cigarette only serves to emphasise her superiority over me...

...as I languish, down amongst the toepath weeds...

...forlornly wishing I could follow her SUPERIOR SOCKS to heel!


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