I am in the shoes of someone who noticed a distance inside.
Between what is lived and what is imagined.
A cleaner version stands ahead.
Quiet.
Demanding.
The gap is not failure.
It is comparison.
So these shoes stop chasing.
They narrow the gap.
By stepping truer to themselves.
Step by step.
Into this ground.
Into this breath.
Into this imperfect walk.
The image softens.
The distance loosens.
And in one quiet step,
the one ahead
and the one walking
touch the same ground.