Canvas shoes, half a size wrong,
laced through the third eyelet so the heel stops lifting.
They belong to a flatmate who has never set foot in this building.

Nothing here is mine yet.
Not the shoes, not the hour, not the route from the door to the fountain.
A borrowed thing still carries weight.
That is the only test it has ever had to pass.

The Book of the Wanderer — Arrival 27:1