First stop this evening is a shop that looks like it might be a chemists.
Already Isabelle's gait is showing a slight hesitancy of step, the practicalities of footwear have been once again overuled by the "look" necessary for Venice. Flesh coloured plasters will assuage the symptom if not the disease itself.
I had tried to tackle the subject of footwear at 2am this morning prior to our departure, having had a bad experience somewhere in the narrow backstreets of Macau a few years ago:
At that time, Isabelle's boots, fashionably heeled, had made the simple act of putting one foot in front of the other an increasingly painful experience.
The miraculous appearance of a taxi was probably the only thing that saved Isabelle and The Relationship from any long term damage.
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