This is a simple start. An exploration of myself and the vulnerabilities that come with it.
These are my feet. Mens size 9.5 on the days I’m feeling long and lean. The toenails are usually sharp but I’ve taken to filing them for extra comfort when wiggling with another set. I cut my toenails much less regular then my fingernails.
I have sprained these ankles, cut these feet, blocked pucks with them, landed ten foot drops flat onto them, froze these poor toes, soaked these feet in ice cold water, 4 oceans, and countless rivers.
One time when I was up in Haida Gwaii dipping into a freezing babbling brook, I managed to step onto a log in such a way that I got a pretty large chunk of wood lodged under my big right toe. As a result, and being in the middle of nowhere with nobody except my dog, I was forced to pull out my left handed (and I’m right handed) jackknife – with about a 3/4″ blade on it – to dig under the toe to get out the wood.
Toe lives on.
When my feet get particularly cold and I’m sitting, I have the sensation of pins sharply digging into the base of my feet when I stand up, so I’ve taken to wearing moccasins.
My feet are the least hairy part of my body, and are drastically ticklish. When warm hands touch my feet, it is what I imagine being touched by an angel would feel like.