Warrior shoes — A love story
Long long time ago, when I was 11 years old, I join the scout group of my hometown and I was definitely pretty excited. I was going to hike a lot, explore the land and live in love with the nature. With my sleeping bag and uniform ready to go, I needed also a good pair of boots to keep me dry and comfy on long walks and cold nights. I found them and they were perfect. So perfect that I brought them with me in every trip I did since then.
They were with me in Mexico when I went to the sacred temples in Oaxaca looking for compassion. I used them in New Zealand on uneven routes. They healed my fear of dark in the caves while spelunking in Sagada in the Philippines and then they joined my last trip from Perth up till the very end of Western Australia. They walked on the Gibb River road in the Kimberley becoming dusty red, getting wet while crossing rivers which brought me to the most enchanted falls.
I hiked many miles with them, they were there for my first kiss, when I was chanting in the Valley of Winds in the magic Lake District and when exploring the Alps with my father. Never would have thought that passed the Northern Territory was going to be time to say good bye.
So, with the help of my favourite tour guide Hayden, we choose one tall and beautiful tree, just passed the border.
With the passion and gratefulness that just an old warrior can feel, I let them be free and live forever on the other side of the world, signing the end of an hera.
That changed me completely. Forever.
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