After serving me well for 3 years, plus 6 weeks in Europe, my beloved and travelled flip flops finally collapsed in exhaustion. We were miles from our hostel, meaning I could not quickly hobble barefoot back to the room and change my shoes, and it was too early in the morning for any Italian shoe salesmen to be out of bed. Consequently, I trekked about Rome for the better part of the morning shoeless. My feet became blackened with Roman grime, and a lady attempted to kick a barefooted me out of the Pantheon. By attempted, I mean I put my deceased shoes back on, gripped them firmly with my toes, and did this mad sort of shuffle around the place.
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