Preston's Walking Shoes

"It's All About Me. Deal With It."
I could wax on an on about who Press is, what Press' limitations are, and pontificate about the evils and failures of government and society. Instead, I'll just say that I have been running into Preston in the neighborhood for about two years. Preston walks. Preston walks a lot. Today, I ran into him over by the Dunkin' Donuts when I was out running errands. We talked for about 15 minutes, a little about the VA, all woven in with some stuff about Ted Nugent, a snake the size of a pick-up truck wrapped around a tree limb, and Cat-Scratch-Fever. I didn't get it all due to his missing choppers, but that was the gist of it. We came to a stopping point, and he happily agreed to let me shoot a Polaroid of his walking shoes. I made one for him, and one for me. The first, he stuck his right foot out as if to vogue. Perfect. Preston doesn't ask for money, but he will bum a smoke. I think the caption on the slippers says it all. We're going to have coffee next time we see each other.