Once upon a time I mopped my bathroom floor in my slippers. To this day, the slippers still smell worse than anything i have smelt bar two things;
1. the home of the hoarder I helped clear.
2. the Christmas ham I found wrapped in tinfoil at the back of the fridge in May 2008.
I ought to destroy the slippers. They don't even fit me. I found them in a sheltered housing complex a couple of years ago. The old people leave things they don't need or were misfitted out in the corridor and I sometimes dip in when I go down to play chess with dad.
Should I destroy the slippers? They may have belonged to someone now dead, and destroying them would be as to efface a fragment of someone's history, which can only decay and be eaten away with time after their passing, granted that no-one remains to elaborate on it. Unless he had children, in which case they are his history written in flesh and blood, but too often it is the case that men grow old without posterity.
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