proust

Three days a week I have a 45 minutes commute, each way. Some days it takes me an hour. I get up early, get dressed and fed, and then when I am ready to leave I have to wait five minutes while the car warms up. So I sit there.

This morning I thought to myself that there ought to be a way I could make better use of those five minutes. But how?

I decided to lace up my Doc Martens in the car. That's always a chore.

So I walked down the driveway with my boot laces untied. I felt the cold wind and rain against my legs and ankles. I heard the faint swooshing of the laces. I arched my feet inside the shoes to make them stay on. I heard the dull sound of my soles hitting the pavement.

I was myself, at 15.