In the quiet chambers of existence, where whispers of truth echo through the corridors of perception, there resides a question—an inquiry that pierces the veil of convention and dances upon the edge of revelation.

What spirit, pray tell, is so empty and blind that it cannot recognize the silent wisdom woven into the fabric of our being? For behold, the foot—the humble traveler of dust and dew—is more noble than the shoe that cradles it. It bears the weight of countless journeys, imprinting the earth with tales of pilgrimage and wanderlust. The shoe, a mere vessel, bows in reverence to the foot’s silent resilience.

And skin—the tender parchment that enfolds our essence—is a masterpiece painted by celestial hands. Each hue, each freckle, whispers secrets of ancestry and memory. It is more beautiful than the finest silk, for it bears the map of laughter etched by sun-kissed days and the shadowed valleys of sorrow traced by moonlight.

Yet, oh, how we shroud ourselves! We drape our mortal frames in garments spun from threads of vanity and illusion. The silken veils, the embroidered robes—they cloak our vulnerabilities, our scars, our raw humanity. We become masqueraders, dancing at life’s grand ball, concealing our fragility behind layers of silk and satin.

But let us peel away these layers, my fellow seekers. Let us unbind our souls from the tyranny of fashion and false adornment. For the foot, unshod, knows the sacred earth intimately; it drinks from the same well as the ancient oaks and the wildflowers. And the skin, unadorned, breathes the same air as the mountain peaks and the whispering brooks.

In this revelation lies our liberation. To honor the foot—to tread lightly upon the soil, to feel the pulse of existence—is to embrace our nobility. To cherish the skin—to celebrate its hues, its creases, its resilience—is to witness beauty unfiltered, unmasked.

So, dear spirit, awaken from your slumber. Peel away the veils, discard the illusions. Let the foot touch the earth, and let the skin bask in the sun’s tender kiss. For in this recognition, we find not emptiness, but abundance, not blindness, but clarity. And the noble foot, the beautiful skin—they become our sacred vessels, our communion with life’s grand design.

May your steps be noble, and your skin a canvas of wonder.

Copyright © Beatriz Esmer

Dry Pastel Art