When I cannot look at your face, I look at your feet. Your arched bone feet, your hard little feet. I know they support you and that your sweet weight lifts up on them. Your waist and your breasts, the double purple of your nipples, the box of your eyes that have just taken flight, the wide mouth of fruit, your red hair, little tower of mine. But if I love your feet, it's only because they walked on land and wind and water, until they found me. (Pablo Neruda) #feet