I'm not good at throwing things out. At all.
But, that's part of moving, so here we go. My little sneakers have waded through both sides of the Pacific Ocean, the Atlantic, the Mediterranean, forests, cities, they've had wine spilled on them, bleach poured on them, and Tucker steals them away to play with and chew on almost daily. I've had these suckers since high school; through a hell of a lot of changes.
That's probably far too much nostalgia for just one pair of kicks.