It’s a feeling of religion; it’s not soccer. It’s something he loves; it’s not his wife. It’s something he needs; it’s not water. It’s something he enjoys; those are his slip-on white shoes. Not yellow, not green; without squares or lines. Those have to be plain and have to be white. From Monday through Saturday he used his white slip-on shoes. In the morning and at night he used his shoes. And to be impressed he used them while he was at sleep, but of course in the couch. I didn’t mention Sunday, because Sunday was a special day for the shoes. They would go out and experience the game of soccer. My grandfather loved soccer. He said that those who used soccer shoes were not able to kick the ball in a proper manner. On Sundays he used to wake up at six o´clock. But his white slip-on shoes on. Then he would stop at the 7-Eleven and buy a chocolate. But not any chocolate it had to be a dark Hershey. All this usual actions had to be on Sunday with his white slip-on shoes on. If one day he would forget his white shoes he would probably forget to buy the Hershey. After playing soccer he would clean perfectly his shoes and leave in the sun so they can dry and be clean and in time of the next day. Something curios is that his grandchild’s (me and my cousins) would remember him that those shoes were completely awful. The surprise was that my grandfather had been using those shoes for about thirty 30 and when I was about 15 years old, Vans displayed in market that model and it had a really good response. Those shoes are more than a possession for him. It’s an item that might identify him. When the shoes were not longer useful he would go to his closet and take out another pair of the same model of slip-on shoes. If it was a rainy or sunny day he would wear those shoes. His beloved white shoes would go with him everywhere. Throughout the world or through a city passage he would have his white shoes on. And in our year 2012, yesterday, today and right now he has his white slip-on shoes on…