flâneur

aimless wander - by jaron - the way home

wayhome.substack.com · 1,071 words · saved by 1 readers

I miss walking everywhere. Where I live, daily commutes are performed exclusively in isolation: grey rumbling machines that hop through traffic like salmon, avoiding the jutting steel and three-second promontories created by the stop of a public bus or the yellow arms akimbo of rear hazard lights. To go far in my city traveling exclusively on foot is not only inefficient, it is nearly impossible — many streets lack the bare-minimum infrastructure of sidewalks and pavements, dedicated crosswalks that get you from place to place. When I travel to other locations, I often find two things in particular: one, I can actually walk to a destination, and two, it always feels like it's winter, even when it's not. I lust for the chill, the shock of the icy air upon unprotected skin as I meander my way down from my couch-surfed apartment with cadenced notes upon concrete stairs, a song colliding with the metal door, first with hands — not enough force — then with full shoulder into the pushbar as

I miss walking everywhere. Where I live, daily commutes are performed exclusively in isolation: grey rumbling machines that hop through traffic like salmon, avoiding the jutting steel and three-second promontories created by the stop of a public bus or the yellow arms akimbo of rear hazard lights. To go far in my city traveling exclusively on foot is not only inefficient, it is nearly impossible — many streets lack the bare-minimum infrastructure of sidewalks and pavements, dedicated crosswalks that get you from place to place. When I travel to other locations, I often find two things in…

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