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  • I was cleaning the front-way of the house nearly 3 months ago and there were huge shoes, discarded, seemingly in a rush on the way to the fridge. I picked one up and couldn't help but notice the length and heft: the familiarity of size. Remarkably, my newly born son, 17+ years ago was roughly the size of one of his own, present day shoes. It was a moment when one holds a familiar object and is immediately transported to the past.
    Birthed in a whirlwind of less than 4 hours, then later doomed to be consequently morphed into footwear. Motherhood is always a fascinating destruction of time and place. Son becomes shoe: the heavy, long, solidly defined shoe.
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