being born and raised in a cave in Istanbul she grew up drinking sand soup and occasionally patting the shoe -in her one shoe community. It was an ancient community and there were stories there had once been two shoes. But as long as anyone that can remember there always has been one shoe. And it was not even particularly a good shoe either. The shoe was vital to the community without the shoe the man could not worked. In the day men used the shoe for work taking turns among themselves. Soon neighboring communities cast a jealous eye for they too wanted a shoe.Soon war broke out. She lost 6 brothers in the war. And her father lost a very important piece of muscle .Years wore on. Recognizing all of the pain and anguish that had followed this dear shoe. The family decided to sacrifice of livelihood of the shoe and to sell the shoe to send their last remaining child, a girl and so not really very useful anyway, to study depths of ART and tell the glorious story of the shoe.
yeah its like that . ( i am in the process of crazy making , almost there . come see the fruits of the crazy . come see my coming of age , my Quinceañera , meet the lamed vavniks and for the love of god do not ask me if i was really brought up in a fucking cave . )