The waiting floor

A repair workshop in afternoon light: dozens of pairs of shoes laid out on white tiles, each pair waiting its turn.

Two doorways of low autumn sun, white tiles to head height, and shoes from wall to wall. Not a display: a queue. Each pair had come in with something wrong and been set down in the order it would be looked at.

I stood in the doorway for a while before lifting the camera. The room already had its own order — heels together, laces tucked in, the whitest trainers nearest the light — and it seemed worth not disturbing.

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