The name requires all-caps because the color demands it in a loud voice. I love them with a fiery passion, even if the color is a bit too busy for the pattern. They are soft and colorful and the perfect antidote to gray and cold weather. If I slip on soggy leaves and die tomorrow, I must be buried in these socks so I can take them on my journey to the afterlife (I imagine the journey there is cold, dark, and intimidating to weed out the weak). I will have warm feet as I stand in the queue for my heart to be weighed against the Feather of Truth (must remember to bring knitting and iPod as the line is probably very long) and if I get spashed by the River Styx these socks will ward off the soul-sucking chill. (It's my underworld and I'll mix and match my mythology if I want to)
Yes, these socks and I will be together forever, together beyond death, transcending space and time.
Or at least until I finish these.
1 comment:
Those are gorgeous.
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