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  • A homeless man walked down a cluttered street. The sound of his torn filthy boots dragging across the ground echoed slowly in his head. The sound temporarily distracted him from the fierce dialogue that had been preoccupying him for the last few months. He looked down at his dragging feet and thought about the character of the dirt upon his shoes. His entire life had been a consistent and gradual struggle to find something inherently valuable, something beautiful and unique, but so vague and confused that the more he struggled the more he seemed to fail. Failure had scuffed and dirtied him, had torn his shoes and broken their soles. But he continued to walk down this cluttered street, more out of habit than hope. A quiet laugh shattered his inconsolable solitude. He slowed his pace as he watched two pairs of fresh white clean shoes hurry by. Hushed whispers and timid giggles accompanied them. However, this man was fully engrossed by the personality of their feet. They implied little hardship, they spoke of beauty and freedom and love. He was completely envious and inspired by the existence of such perceptive comfort and security. He looked down in comparison and his heart sunk into the pit of his stomach as he realized that sort of freedom was beyond him. He quickened his pace down the cluttered street, eyes following the pattern of his dragging feet, ears lulled to sleep by its echo, and mind quietly arguing with itself just for the sake of having someone to argue with.
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