Rant time. Silence me if you like. I'd silence myself if I could. Hell, I usually do, but that's neither here or there.Calling these things shoes is an insult to every shoemaker who ever lived. To me they're "things you put on your feet so you don't get kicked out of places".And my despise at such things (back in the day it was alpargatas, espadrilles, for me: long story, not really suitable for wet weather) is rooted in the fact that I have walked barefoot. In the streets. Here in La Plata and in Buenos Aires. Bit harder in these months of fucking relentless Sun and hot pavement, sometimes maybe hundreds of meters of it: once I had to improvise some protection out of cardboard. Didn't much care for the dog shit plus broken glass, but if most people emigrated or died at least one of these problems would go away.Yeah, somewhat violent mood. Happens usually in summer. We don't know how to live, we're killing ourselves by living stupidly. Can't even read the fucking sky. When the daystar is up you shouldn't go out. We haven't been really trained on it, but there's something called siesta in the provinces up north. Survival strategy when it's above 40°C in the shade. But down here in Buenos Aires that's just being lazy, right? We won't survive global warming and I won't shed a single tear for this so-called great city. We had our chance and we wasted it.
