If man is to survive as commander of the watch then too must the domain over which he presides. A simple statement of fact; logical, basic; yet, for most of us its significance remains obscure. Cultural conventions have so thoroughly cocooned our childhoods in the capitalistic ethic that by the time we're old enough to think on our own the blinders have become permanently fixed. Our nature is to reach out and take, take until we're satisfied, and then wonder what new trinket will surface to delight our senses. The natural world of which we were meant to be but a simple piece has become our playground, and as our hand-to-mouth philosophies have developed an ethos of me first, others like me second, and to Hell with the rest, we've not only brutalized our contiguous plant and animal life but have grown further and further apart within our own species. Concrete Slippers explores the nature of that struggle from a number of angles, through the character of a people, a place, and a time - chronological, psychological; a little joy, a little pain; shaping a town and a people and the ambiguity of conscience burning hot within us all.