Do you remember this post which I wrote more than 3 years ago? It is about a foreign domestic worker whom I met in my block's lift. Her footwear had given way and she was making her way home barefooted.
Well, last Sunday the same thing happened again. No, I didn't meet another woman whose footwear was spoilt. This time, one of the pair of sandals I was wearing decided that its time was up:
I was stranded somewhere in wilderness of Marine Parade Central and was left with little choice but to drag my right foot along with the broken sandal when I walked. (Trust me, you'll never realise how far away the nearest shoe shop is until you are forced to walk this way. Although the shop is barely 100 feet away, it seems more like a mile.) I had to endure curious stares from passers-by. Stares were still alright but two young ladies even had the audacity to giggle to each other on seeing me in this predicament. How come nobody was kind enough to offer me a
After a literally dragging long time, I finally arrived at the shoe store. At $4.90 a pair of flimsy slippers, they were probably overpriced. But then when you are in my
I was just glad that I wasn't climbing Mount Kinabalu when my footwear broke.