Grounded with bare


I didn’t like being barefoot when I was a child. I had my woolen socks, knitted by my grandmother, and they definitely were my protection against too much life and summer action.

I loved spending my free afternoons on my bed reading stories about a courageous woman in Lhasa or an intelligent French lady having an unhappy love affair.

It was in India that I dared walking nearly barefoot during five weeks. I only had my flip-flops.

The first time in my life, I felt grounded by my bare feet.

Certain feelings take a long time to grow.

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