Shoes

He says it's the shoes. New sneakers have air pockets that act as life jackets for the severed feet. He says they're not severed, they're disarticulated. Feet detach from the body as it decomposes. He says sadly the mystery of feet washing onto the beaches is probably suicides.
Wherever there are islands and waterways, wherever there are high bridges.
He looks out at the water where he lives and says he wishes he could
go to the murky bottom to surface the rest.
Without teeth or fingerprints, identity is difficult. Sometimes it starts with the when and where of shoes.