Sandals are the youth of a shoe
And the memory of its trek to the desert
I don’t know when the sandals will lose me
Or when I will lose them, but they will be lost,
Each in a different place:
One not far from my home
Among rocks and low bushes.
And the other will drown in sand
At the great sea,
As the sinking sun
Facing the sinking sun.
—Yehuda Amichai, from “Sandals.” Art: Eugène Boudin.