5 years ago, I bought a pair of Nike red shoes. I liked the style, the colour, and mostly the comfort.
They became faithful journey companions, and I was a loyal owner. I took those shoes to 4 continents.
My red shoes became mythical. They generated panic and fury in the ruling class and bosses alike, which made me wear them even more often! I'll never forget Melvin's pale face when I pretended those were my only shoes for a meeting in Amsterdam.
They were a useful tool as well, for my more than occasional black market ticket transactions. "Meet me under the Freddie Mercury at Tottenham Court Road. I'll be wearing red shoes". Never failed!
Most of all, they made sure that in the rugged paths of Honduras, the steep peaks of the Andes, the never ending avenues of Chicago, the slippery wet floors of Tokyo's fish market or Australia's dusty roads I could feel like I was walking on pillows. Sadly they passed away victims of the ruthless Western Australia heat. I'll never find such comfort again...
These shoes were more than pillows. They were a friend. A confident. A trusted companion who always had an advice, and who was never afraid to tell me what I needed to hear. (I'm getting sentimental, I know....)
Farewell, my friends. may the rubbish bin life lead you to meet other faithful shoe sole road dust busters. I'm sure you'll have plenty to talk about.

Venice 2004 - Marco and I Trying to break into a church

Miami Beach 2005 - The end of an era

London 2006 - At my Notting Hill house

Paris 2007 - Le jump man

Yokohama 2008 - Banzai jump man!!

Tasmania 2008 - Still going strong

Western Australia 2009 - The last journey

Still hanging in there. Well deserved retirement

the tale of a man

This is the tale of a man. The tale of a man who seems to have a bad case of memory loss and bad luck.
This is the tale of a man who double booked himself with flights to Western Australia and a Coldplay concert. Upon realising this, it became the tale of a man in desperate search for a ticket swap for a previous Coldplay concert.

This man has distant relatives living in Sydney, whom he still didn't visit. Well, this is also the tale of the relatives who invited this man over for a party at their house. Only the man could not attend the dinner, because he was going to fly to Western Australia, hopefully after a successful Coldplay ticket swap. This man had to excuse himself, but the relatives were so kind as to ask this man if he could attend the dinner the following weekend. The man promptly answered yes, and felt redeemed. So the relatives proceeded to change all arrangements of all involved in order to accommodate the man's presence at the party.

Faith interfered and the man was able to swap his Coldplay ticket. The concert was great, and Western Australia quite spectacular! The universe's balance seemed to have been restored.

This became the tale of the man who, right after agreeing everything on the phone with the relatives, thought to himself: Hang on... The Kings of Leon concert should be coming around. As long as it's not next Satur..... Oh for fuck sake!!!! Of course, this man's good friend Murphy, with his law that seems to be the most universally stubborn rule in the entire solar system, was is deep shit again. At this point this was the tale of the man who had to swallow his pride and call the relatives to explain how his old age and undeniable lack of memory both combined to explain this unfortunate coincidence. All seemed lost.

This man's good buddy Warner then emailed him with a birthday party invitation for, of course, that same night. Life has a pretty sick sense of humour, we all know, but that's no reason for destiny to rub it in your face like that...
This then turned out to be the tale of the man who failed to swap Kings of Leon tickets, but who brilliantly framed a way to sell his ticket and buy another for no loss. Oh, the sweet taste of glory! The man immediately called the relatives, in great satisfaction, to tell them he was going to make the party after all!

Friday before this infamous Saturday, this man's boss asks him what's he up to this weekend. The man explained how he expects to be busy with sports, beach and a relative's dinner party. The boss proceeded to give this man 4 corporate tickets for the New South Wales Waratahs Rugby union team, at the Sydney Olympic stadium, for the man to take whomever he wants with free VIP access. Of course, at this point, the man realized that there is a God, (or at the very least a strongly resourceful intelligence agency) that commands all happenings on Earth, but for some obscure reason this God doesn't seem to like this man very much, and uses him for self amusement purposes.

This is presently the tale of the man who still finds it annoying when he can't have it all. Because that's all he wants. Any similarities with real life are pure coincidence.