If you ever want to feel like a weirdo, just leave the house. I suppose I’m a target, as a tall white lady in platform sandals. At the botanical gardens, walking among enormous trees with thick trunks and sprawling leafy canopies that remind me of elephants, people stare at me. At the glass canopy, a relic of English rule, a young couple asked to take a picture with us. No introductions, no pleasantries, nothing. They just wanted our visages next to theirs. Women passed scanning me from head to toe, lingering on my deformed, red swollen welty feet, lightly squeezed by my sandal straps. Taking a walk as a human spectacle. 