Where some see shoes, I see a father desperately comforting his daughter telling her everything will be fine, where he knows it won’t be fine ever again.
Where some see shoes, I see missed opportunities of getting to know the people who wore them.
Where some see shoes, I see the sad face of a little boy who is just so exhausted after a train journey. Not a luxurious journey on the way to visit his grandparents or on a short vacation. A train journey packed with so many others, strangers, like cattle, Deprived from food and water.
Where some see shoes, I see an old woman who only celebrated her 99th birthday last week, but has now been killed in a gas chamber.
Where some see shoes, I see a teacher, a musician, an artist, a Doctor, a home maker, a cleaning lady, a garbage man, a lover, a…
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History of Sorts 