Do you wear socks with your sandals?

It seems like so many people love the beach. Millions of humans frolicking on the beach. I am not a cocktail sippin roll in the sand kinda fella. But a beach with howling winds and nobody else around. The only thing packed is the sand. That’s a nice beach. But I moved to a beach place full of super social creatures. I visit the beach often and you know what that means. You need to wear sandals. I wore sandals in my youth. But they weren’t hot beach sandals. They were cold beach sandals. You needed socks.

Here is a true story. Written shortly after moving to Sitges. First published in Sprung Formal, a literary arts journal published annually in association with the Liberal Arts and Graphic Design Departments at the Kansas City Art Institute. Now the microfiction/prose poems is part of my book Dream Dust (surreal-absurd micro stories and prose poetry loosely built around travel). Dream Dust is available from Broken Sleep Books in the UK (and worldwide).

Naked Freedom by Marcus Silcock