I am a shoe ...


And the things I've seen! I have visited many places in my life as a shoe. I want to tell my story.


I was made of leather by a shoemaker in the town of Mexicali, in Mexico. Although I was made by the cobbler, I think my father was actually the bull that my leather came from. I was an orphan since before my construction, because my father lost his life in the bullring. But I have one brother, the other pair's shoe, like my partner. I have not been lonely.


The shoemaker sewed me with a needle and strong cotton thread, with care and pride in his work. Ah, but I was a handsome shoe in my youth! I had a very attractive tongue, a magnificent brown tint, and a sole made of five layers of leather. And almost before the cobbler could complete my construction, a man had bought the two shoes, me and my partner.


During my early days, I only went to church every Sunday. But, then came many problems - my owner had to earn money to support his family, and was very poor -  so my travels began.


For my first trip, I went from Mexicali to Calexico, in the state of California, USA. I was protecting my owner's feet every day as he walked across the border. He then worked in the fields for some farmers as a harvester. Then, when the harvest was complete, we again walked, this time very far north, through Oregon, Washington, and Canada. In those places, my owner harvested more vegetables and fruits, while day by day, my leather seemed less shiny and my sole became thinner.


When the whole harvest for that year was complete, I wrapped my owner's feet again and returned to the south. We walked east to Arizona to work in the orange orchards before returning to Mexicali. Of course, by then the dye of my leather had been marked and had stripes. My glow was gone completely.


There were times when my owner was driven by car to one field or another, but most of the time, we walked. For many years, we traveled north and south, following the harvests. The work was difficult for my owner from time to time. Usually, the days were the same - one foot in front of the other, and then we shoes, we tired, we rest at night.


We walked so many miles - so many I can not count. Today, I live with my brother in a closet, but I think my time is short. I miss the times when, although dirty and covered with mud, I saw the world from the road I dared, step by step. But the truth is that my sole has many holes; The leather on the top is worn and I can not be comfortable by the foot of my owner. Oh my! I have become too old, and my life as a shoe is over...


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