It’s 8:39 on a slightly rainy Tuesday evening. I am meeting with Ralph, my brother from the same mother, to dine at a local eatery famous for its preparation of grilled food and fresh fruit smoothies.
With no particular agenda set for the evening, we watch the grains of sand fall from the virtual hour glass dabbling in mature conversational topics such as family life, real estate trends, and cultural news.
Organically, like the fruit smoothies we have partially consumed, the topic of sneakers inevitably rises to the surface.
These days, I rock a lot of classic Js and lesser known premium Adidas kicks, while my broski Ralph prefers to rock a pair of utilitarian Kobe 10 flynit that he has successfully beaten down into submission.
In terms of kicks based selections, my broski Ralph reminds me of Foamer Simpson’s younger brother Young Buckets; who also sports a smaller, but heavily worn collection.
Imagine if I never had a broski? Would I be the same person I am today?
Definitely, and unequivocally, the answer is no.Kev Zool
As the delectable fruit smoothies vanish from their plastic abode and the evening draws to a close, I relish the time, brotherhood, and of course the kicks based conversation that only a true broski can comprehend.
Here is a shout out to all the real broskis out there in Sneakerland.