I grew up in a village, and in my childhood we seldom visited the next town. When we went there, mostly to shop, the adults wore shoes of course, but I was barefoot. There was a consensus in my family that I went barefoot at almost every opportunity, more than most other children. By constant begging I had got the permission to live barefoot from March to November. So I was almost always barefoot when we went to town. I always looked forward to feel with my bare soles all the surfaces, being different than in our village. I loved to feel the rough asphalt at the train station, where we arrived, the cobblestones in the medieval town, the marble in the shopping malls, the fine-grained sandstone in the church. Nothing has changed in these barefoot experiences since my childhood. I still love to walk barefoot in the city and to feel all the different surfaches.