Collection of essays by a writer who measures cities in kilometres walked rather than landmarks checked off. I am working through it slowly — one essay per week, usually after circling Ann Siang Hill.
The first essay describes getting lost on purpose in Lisbon. The second compares pavement quality to municipal priorities. By the third I stopped expecting travelogue and started expecting attention — which is harder and more useful.
What strikes me is the refusal to treat walking as exercise alone. The author notices shop signs fading in the sun, the politics of who gets benches, the way tourists and residents share pavement without sharing purpose.
I copied one sentence into my notebook: "Speed is a lens; change the speed, change the story." Singapore tests that claim daily. Try walking Orchard Road on a Tuesday afternoon instead of riding through it — the street becomes a different sentence.
Last week I walked from the studio to Maxwell Food Centre without my phone. Got lost once, corrected by an auntie who said I looked like someone reading the wrong map. She was right. I was reading memory, not street signs.
Still on chapter six of twelve. I hope the book lasts the month. Some readings are better when they keep pace with your legs.