Walking down the Main Street, chilled, to my hostel, I see two men huddled next to each other, presumably talking.
They are about 3 blocks away from me, but the corner of Hannan here is where the light is.
They move off and minutes later I arrive, to find a pair of sneakers.
In the sidewalk.
Who leaves their shoes ... in the street?
Did those men take them off? Find them and huddle over the pair, wondering as I do, why they are no longer needed?
I stop dead in my tracks every time I see a solo shoe or sandal, abandoned or tossed aside, or lost ...
There are stories here, a mile in the shoes of someone I will never know or see, but leaves me wondering what scenario happens that you don't have time or need or ability to keep them.
It sort of always seems sad to me.
I wish I had stayed to see who might pick these up. I guess Paddy Hannan, the first man to "find" gold here, is watching over them from his corner view.
People. We are so fascinatingly weird.