My most recent, long suffering pair of shoes, donated to the side of the river and the world, generally.
A long walk and a high place.
Towards the end of the course I started taking the sort of photographs I was taking before; at least, it felt that way. Photographs that were not connected necessarily by theme, but more by mood or function; namely, these things I saw made me feel something and photographing them was an attempt to record that feeling. Or maybe an attempt to articulate that feeling in some way. Though I know it's inevitably futile, my response to these scenes now is, through the filter of memory, irrevocably changed. Still, what else can I do? I'd forget it completely otherwise.
One last trip to the Tesco down the road. Soon after taking this, the last frame of the roll of film, I saw a beautiful fox roaming the streets of an estate near my house. I stopped and watched him for a while, he spotted me at one point and stared hungrily back for a few seconds before slinking off behind a wall. I went home and ate whatever awful food I had, went to sleep and moved out the next day. I felt pretty good about that.