Every photo has a story:
“Try walking a mile in her shoes,” he said condescendingly.
To which the only fair response was a stern, “Her shoes?! Her shoes?! You want me to walk a mile in her shoes?!”
An awkward silence ensued.
And that’s exactly when it happened.
Slicing that bright Hawaiian mountain in half. On a road that never should have existed. With clouds shaped in ways they’ll never show again.
So we travelled together. In that very moment, we travelled together.
And that was the whole point.
Then I thought to myself, “I should try walking a mile in his shoes.”