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>A typical day with my two young sons, who prefer to go >barefoot in all circumstances, is always an adventure. >That morning, we decided to take their young cousin >into town with us. The little one was a little >reluctant to go barefoot in public, so she put on >socks before we left. > >As soon as we left the house, my boys took off their >shoes without hesitation, letting their feet touch the >hot summer ground. They were used to this feeling of >freedom, even in the middle of the busy city. Our >young cousin, however, was worried. She walked >cautiously on the sidewalks, trying to keep her socks >clean. > >As the day wore on, we explored the city, visiting >parks, museums and stores. My sons ran barefoot >through the park grass, marveling at the sensations >beneath their feet. It wasn't long before the cousin >noticed that her socks were getting dirtier and >dirtier. She finally took them off with a sigh of >resignation, preferring to join in the barefoot >adventure rather than worry about her dirty socks. > >As the day wore on, it was inevitable that their feet >would get dirtier and dirtier. The city, for all its >beauty, was full of dirt and dust, and my boys >absorbed it with every step. Their feet were now a >mixture of earthy brown and urban gray. > >As evening approached, we eventually sat down to an al >fresco meal at a small restaurant. My boys sat down >barefoot, as did our young cousin, joining the >barefoot tribe. The waiters were understanding, and >even the customers looked at us with a mixture of >curiosity and admiration. > >By the end of the busy day, my sons were exhausted, >but happy. Their feet were black with dirt, but they >didn't seem to mind. On the contrary, it was the sign >of a day of adventure and exploration. We returned >home, where they washed their feet, revealing their >soft, rosy skins beneath the layer of dirt. > >It's not unusual for my sons to fall asleep with black >soles after a busy day. Once home, we used to wash >them thoroughly, using warm water and soap to remove >accumulated dirt. However, despite our best efforts to >clean their little feet, sometimes the blackness >persisted. > >It was as if the city had left its mark on their feet, >even after careful washing. Traces of it sometimes >seemed to resist, lodging themselves in the hollows of >their feet, a reminder of the day's adventures. On >evenings when this happened, my sons would fall asleep >with a small part of the city still on their feet, >like a tangible reminder of their escapades. > >We didn't really mind, as it was a sign that our days >were full of exploration and fun. Dirt-black feet were >a symbol of my boys' adventurous childhood, of their >desire to live every moment to the full, even at the >cost of slightly dirty feet. It was a source of pride >for them, and every morning they would set off on a >new adventure, ready to discover more, no matter where >it took them.

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