The answer is blowing in the wind

These boots were made for walking and that is what they did. These pair of shoes were ideated by that genius of Chuck Taylor, I assume they were made in Vietnam or thereabouts, purchased in the US, donated to me by Mr. Eli Cohen in Svalbard, assisted a fokking graduation in engineering (my own), walked me through the streets of Amsterdam, then brought me to Iceland, they supported me in my quest to get a place into an English drama school, walked me back and forth between school and home for a year, saw me happy and sad, brave and coward, served as brakes when my bike hadnt got any for months, led me to India, absorbed the piss and shit of half India through the holes in their soles. Their canvas got so sticky it was unreal. This pic was taken on Marine Drive, Mumbay, the day before I left the subcontinent. I didnt throw them into the ocean (although it would have been consistent with the Indian custom altogether), I didnt throw them into a bin. I just left them on Marine Drive, resembling a man watching the Arabian Sea in its dazzling beauty. Im back home now. I have got some annoying health issues to deal with and most of my memories are entagled with each other and blurred in these days. My body is a temple and I must take care of it as well as my inner soul. It will take time. It will take the right amount of time to be ready for the killing again.
But I am grinning.