Welcome, Please Remove Your Shoes
I hoard slippers—the thin-soled, terry kind that many hotels include in their amenity packages. My house is full of them, some still plastic-wrapped. Shoes that will never be good for anything but indoor wear. Yet to me, they are simply too precious to leave behind.
I grew up in the USSR, where —indoor slippers—were worn habitually. We changed into them when we came home, leaving the dirt of the outdoors at the entrance. We carried them to school where our fellow students stood guard at the door posted by the principal with the sole purpose of checking our bags for , the change of footwear. Museums provided containers of felt mules by the entrance for visitors to don over boots before entering the halls. And we knew
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