Tag: "Walking in the City: The Geographies of Everyday Pedestrian Practices"

Jennie Middleton, “‘Stepping In Time’: Walking, Time, and Space In the City”

I have accumulated a pile of articles on a variety of topics, and I am determined to work through them, somehow. So this morning, before turning to the reading I really should be doing, I’m going to return to Jennie Middleton’s “‘Stepping in Time’” Walking, Time, and Space in the City.” I started this article weeks ago, and then I put it aside. I hate to leave anything unfinished, so I’m coming back to it this morning.

I started reading this article as part of my excursion into debates around walkability. I wasn’t quite finding what I was looking for in this literature, and that might be a sign that it’s not there, that I’m going to have to make up my own theory about walkability and culture. Maybe that’ll work; maybe it won’t. Maybe someone reading this blog will let me know where I can find discussions of cultures of walking and their connection to the walkability of places where people live. For now, I’m stumbling around, reading these articles, hoping to find something that supports my hunch about walking in the city where I live.

That hunch is simply this: walking in this city—except in two places, the park and, to a lesser degree, on the path along the creek, which tends to be used by cyclists rather than pedestrians—is an eccentric activity, and I rarely see other people walking here, because the urban form here discourages walking, since it isn’t, according to what I’ve been reading, particularly walkable. The city where I live lacks population density, street connectivity, and a mixture of land uses (see Stockton et al), all of which promote functional walking. For that reason, it does not satisfy the hierarchy of needs Mariela Alfonzo describes: feasibility, accessibility, safety, comfort, and pleasurability (see Alfonzo). It also lacks what Michael Southworth calls “path context” (Southworth 251), or what I’ve been calling “texture density”: simply put, it tends to be a dull, uninteresting place to walk. Even areas of the big park, Wascana Centre, are dull deserts of lawn, a boring monoculture that can be painful to walk across on a hot summer day—or a day in winter when the temperature is below minus 30. All of these factors are interrelated in complex ways. Because the city lacks walkability, people don’t walk here—they drive instead, partly because driving is cheap and easy (see Forsyth 279)—and, as a result, there’s no culture of walking.

In other words, walking in this place is an eccentric activity; it’s not normal for adults who could drive to ambulate instead. That lack of a walking culture feeds the lack of walkability here. Why should the city invest in sidewalks or signalized crosswalks when nobody would use them or complains about their lack? I’m sure city councillors hear more complaints about potholes than they do about broken or missing sidewalks. More importantly for my purposes, it means that the forms of walking that exist in more walkable places—guided tours, promenades, heritage walks, rural rambles—don’t tend to exist. Many forms of participatory, convivial artistic walking are reactions against those pedestrian modes and models. Are those forms of participatory, convivial artistic walking possible in contexts where the types of walking to which they respond—as parody, as mythographic or psychographic subversion—do not exist? In that case, are the demands that all artistic walking be participatory and convivial perhaps ignoring their own contexts—the walkability of the places where those walking events take place? I mean, what kind of convivial or participatory walking is possible in North American cities, where the distance most people consider walkable is only 1/4 of a mile (Talen 264-66)? How much convivial walking can happen if people can only walk 10 minutes before they feel they’ve gone far enough?

I’ve already blogged about one of Jennie Middleton’s essays, “Walking In the City: The Geographies of Everyday Pedestrian Practices,” but this one, “‘Stepping In Time: Walking, Time, and Space In the City,” with its title resonant of phenomenology, caught my attention. “This paper explores walking and its relationship with and through time and space,” Middleton begins (“Stepping” 1943). Her study “reveals time as a significant dimension of pedestrian experiences” and it argues “that the relationship between walking and time is not one of clock-time passing, as pedestrian policy implies, but is made up of multiple temporalities that emerge out of, and shape, people’s experiences on foot” (“Stepping” 1943). She uses the work of Barbara Adam and Henri Bergson as a theoretical grounding “to suggest that people become aware of their own duration as they move on foot when they are made to wait” (“Stepping” 1943). She discusses space in similar terms; she is interested in “the multiple spatialities that are constituted by and practised through walking” (“Stepping” 1943). For Middleton, urban walking is “an inherently spatiotemporal experience” (“Stepping” 1943). That’s likely true of all forms of walking, too. She also suggests that notions of rhythm provide a way of engaging with the spatiotemporality of walking (“Stepping” 1944).

Middleton wants to get deeper into the experience of walking than the existing policy research on walking, which is “primarily characterised by statistical data, such as travel surveys, pedestrian counts, or local pedestrian audits” (“Stepping” 1944). Theoretical accounts of walking “are characterised by a lack of empirical exploration of the actual practice of walking” (“Stepping” 1944). So Middleton wants a different kind of empirical study. Her research has “three principal aims; first, to explore the relationship between walking and the built environment; second, to explore the many different types, forms, and characters of walking; third, to engage with the social dimensions of pedestrian movement” (“Stepping” 1944). “These research aims were interrogated across a transect through the inner London boroughs of Islington and Hackney,” she continues—I hope she explains what she means by “transect” (“Stepping” 1944). Her study “drew upon a mixed-method approach, including a postal survey, experiential walking photo diaries, and in-depth interviews” (“Stepping” 1944). The diaries asked participants to note when and where and for how long they walked—in other words, “they spatialised their experience of time on foot by producing personalised time-space budgets in the diaries” (“Stepping” 1944). Participants were also encouraged to explain why they were walking (out of necessity or by choice), how they felt about where they were walking, who they were walking with, and how they were walking (“Stepping” 1944). “The task of recording the time-space budgets was something each participant did with ease and consistency, yet a tension emerged between these recorded movements and the accompanying accounts—which made it possible to question whether walking, time, and space are experienced in such linear terms,” Middleton continues (“Stepping” 1944). Photographs of items of interest were taken by the participants using a disposable camera, and they were used as discussion prompts in the follow-up interviews (“Stepping” 1944). “It is by engaging with the discursive organisation of the interview and diary accounts that the multiple temporalities and spatialities of walking are made visible, particularly in terms of how the interviewees and diarists used issues of temporality and spatiality as resources to account for their experiences as urban pedestrians,” Middleton writes (“Stepping” 1944-45).

The policy context of this study is the efforts by UK governments to decrease vehicular traffic by promoting public transport, walking, and cycling (“Stepping” 1945). Often those efforts suggest that walking can save time (“Stepping” 1945). From her research, Middleton has learned that “time is considered a limited resource and a currency not to be wasted” (“Stepping” 1945). “Issues surrounding wayfinding, routes, and shortcuts” emerge in her participants’ diaries, along with “the importance of how people talk about issues associated with time”—for instance, whether one would take a slightly longer but more pleasant route if one were in a hurry because one is late (“Stepping” 1945). The notion of time as a resource emerged throughout the data, but participants might not choose a shorter route if it happened to be less pleasant (“Stepping 1946). The diary accounts “bring into question the temporal assumptions made in transport policy of people’s desire for high-speed travel,” which are “based on the premise that ‘faster is seen to be better’” (Harris et al, qtd. “Stepping” 1946). “Yet is this really the case?” Middleton asks. “Does faster travel ‘achieve more’ than, for example, the ‘slower’ transport mode of walking?” (“Stepping” 1946).

Middleton cites John Urry and Mimi Sheller’s argument that travel time is often considered to be productive, although little attention has been paid to walking as productive time (“Stepping” 1946). “Productive” in this instance refers to the ability to get work done while travelling. Middleton’s participants noted that they are often thinking about their work while walking (“Stepping” 1946). Her participants reported that walking is less stressful than using public transportation, and that walking gives them time to think about the work they have to accomplish (“Stepping” 1947). Middleton suggests the issue of stress draws attention to “the multiple rhythms and rhythmicity of walking” compared to full buses not stopping, for instance, which disrupts the rhythm of getting to work on time (“Stepping” 1947). That disrupted temporal rhythm, and the sense of being late, is a contrast to walking to work (“Stepping” 1947). Of course, if one happens to leave late for some reason, walking can generate similar anxieties about making it to work on time—I know that from experience.

Here Middleton turns to theoretical accounts of time-geography, which tend to see time as linear, and critiques of time-geography as too linear as compared to the way people actually experience time and its rhythms (“Stepping” 1948). “So what are the multiple times and rhythms associated with walking?” she asks. “And are there other ways in which pedestrians experience time than those discussed up to this point—something more than clock time passing?” (“Stepping” 1948). Yes: in the diaries and interviews that were part of her research, “it is possible to discern how the research participants are much more than ‘urban pedestrians’ as the multiple temporalities in their walking patterns make visible their multiple identities as, for example, partners, parents, professionals, and persons in relation to others” (“Stepping” 1949). She continues, “how can further sense be made about the relationship between time and issues associated with identity?” (“Stepping” 1949).

In her participants’ diaries, Middleton sees evidence that “people temporally frame distinctions they make about who they are in relation to others” along with temporally framing other issues as well, such as their own multiple identities (as pedestrians who temper the rhythm and pattern of their walks to work in relation to the situations they have to deal with, but also in terms of their accountabilities to others as a partner, family member, and employee) (“Stepping” 1949-50). She suggests that there are different forms of time, including but not limited to linear time, the time of clocks and calendars, and that there is a disjunction between collective time and the individual felt experience of time (“Stepping” 1950). “‘Clock times,’ ‘collective times,’ and ‘timings’ mutually interact, both shaping and emerging” from the movements of her research participants (“Stepping” 1951). She uses Henri Bergson and Doreen Massey to think about “the continuity, irreversibility, and openness of time” to think about time spent walking compared to time spent waiting (at traffic lights, for instance) (“Stepping” 1951). Time expands and contracts at different moments in a walker’s journey—expanding when the walker is forced to wait (“Stepping” 1951). The walker’s sense of time and of his or her own physicality intersect (“Stepping” 1952). 

Middleton notes that Bergson’s privileging of time over space has been critiqued, particularly by Doreen Massey, who argues that they cannot be understood in isolation, and asks how pedestrian movement can be understood in light of these conceptual concerns (“Stepping” 1953). Walking, time, and space are related, because walking is a spatiotemporal practice (“Stepping” 1953). This relationship seems particularly salient in the mental maps pedestrians make of obstacles and difficult places (“Stepping” 1953). Tim Ingold has argued that wayfinding is a complex spatial practice and a means of inhabiting the world (“Stepping” 1953). A wayfarer has an active engagement with the country that opens up along his or her path, according to Ingold, and for Middleton, the mental maps her participants construct are examples of wayfaring (“Stepping” 1954). The experiences of those participants highlights “the complexity of how paths are constructed, imagined, and lived out,” as well as “how spatial practices, such as walking, are also temporal” (“Stepping” 1954). The spatiotemporal complexity of urban walking also “illustrates the significance of identity in terms of how these relations emerge and are configured” (“Stepping” 1955). 

Here Middleton returns to the notion that the rhythm of walking is conducive to thinking about other things (particularly work) (“Stepping” 1955). She cites Henri Lefebvre’s notion of rhythmanalysis here as a way of thinking about space, time, and place as interrelated (“Stepping” 1955-56). Her research participants discuss how the rhythm of walking seems to enable them to think, and how different speeds of walking make such thinking easier or more difficult (“Stepping” 1956). For Middleton, “rhythm is a way of understanding the multiple temporalities, spatialities, and corporealities of walking together. In other words, where there is rhythm of sorts, there is something to be said about time and space” (“Stepping” 1956). Thinking about walking “in relation to rhythm provides a productive means for exploring the multiple temporalities and spatialities of walking and the ways in which they interrelate,” and “by engaging with notions of rhythm . . . further sense can be made of how issues associated with identity emerge within participants’ accounts and how they relate to spatiotemporal concerns” (“Stepping” 1957-58). 

In her conclusion, Middleton notes that by thinking about the relationship between walking and time and space, “the notion of time has been reconceptualised in relation to how people move on foot from the linear temporal understandings present in current transport and walking policy” (“Stepping” 1958). Her point is “that time is an issue which is relatively neglected in current walking policy documents, or an issue bound up in the concern of transport policy for speed and efficiency,” while in contrast, for pedestrians, “time emerges as an issue of great significance for walking, with temporal concerns being drawn upon as resources in the framing of other issues” (“Stepping” 1958). Walking is more than just a mode of transport, and it should be promoted “as something which resources people’s day-to-day routines, rather than solely being framed as a healthy, sustainable transport choice”—in other words, it is “a resource for organising families, friendships, and households” (“Stepping” 1958). Along with the multiple temporalities of walking, her research “reveals the multiple spatialities that are constituted by and practised through walking. Issues associated with physical mobility difficulties illustrate how walking is an inherently spatial practice, connected to a sense of identity” (“Stepping” 1958). Finally, rhythm is “a productive means for engaging how time, space, and identity interrelate as people walk” (“Stepping” 1959).

I admire Middleton’s success in bringing a dense theoretical context and empirical research and analysis together, but I would need to read Lefebvre or Bergson, and reread Massey, before I could say very much about the results of her research. Walking research goes in surprising directions, and I’m impressed by the range of philosophical and theoretical material Middleton has brought to bear on her research participants’ experiences. Maybe I’ll get to reading Lefebvre and Bergson and Adam for this degree, although I might be better off spending my limited time—it’s a resource not just for walking—on reading more work by Tim Ingold. There are so many directions my research could travel in, and I need to be careful which paths I choose.

Works Cited

Alfonzo, Mariela A. “To Walk or Not to Walk? The Hierarchy of Walking Needs.” Environment and Behavior, vol. 37, no. 6, 2005, pp. 808-836. DOI: 10.1177/0013916504274016.

Forsyth, Ann. “What Is a Walkable Place? The Walkability Debate in Urban Design.” Urban Design International, vol. 20, no. 4, 2015, pp. 274-92. DOI: 10.1057/udi.2015.22.

Middleton, Jennie. “Walking in the City: The Geographies of Everyday Pedestrian Practices.” Geography Compass, vol. 5, no. 2, 2011, pp. 90-105. DOI: 10.1111/j.1749-8198.2010.00409.x.

Southworth, Michael. “Designing the Walkable City.” Journal of Urban Planning and Development, vol. 131, no. 4, 2005, pp. 246-57. DOI: 10.0161/(ASCE)0733-9488(2005)131:4(246).

Stockton, Jemima C. Oliver Duke-Williams, Emmanuel Stamatakis, Jennifer S. Mindell, Eric J. Brunner, and Nicola J. Shelton. “Development of a Novel Walkability Index for London, United Kingdom: Cross-sectional Application to the Whitehall II Study. ” BMC Public Health, vol. 16, no. 416, pp. 1-12. DOI: 10.1186/s12889-016-3012-12.

Talen, Emily. “Pedestrian Access as a Measure of Urban Quality.” Planning Practice and Research, vol. 17, no. 3, 2002, pp. 257-78. DOI:10.1080/026974502200005634.

Jennie Middleton, “Walking in the City: The Geographies of Everyday Pedestrian Practices”

Human geographer Jennie Middleton begins her discussion of walking, “Walking in the City: The Geographies of Everyday Pedestrian Practices,” by noting that

despite a growing recognition in the transport policy and research arena of the complexity of walking, and an increased awareness of how social and cultural theoretical writings engaging with notions such as affect and performance might usefully inform broader policy debates, there remains a disconnect between different bodies of research addressing different dimensions associated with walking. (90)

In this paper, Middleton continues, her aim is “to explore critically some of the multiple areas of work on walking,” and by doing so, to propose “an increased dialogue between, and wider acknowledgement of, different modes of enquiry relating to pedestrian practices” (90). 

Middleton suggests that this article “exemplifies both the overlapping dimensions, and disconnections, of different realms of engagement with walking through a detailed discussion of walking in the city” (90). First, it pays attention to “the types of transport research that inform current urban policy thinking,” arguing that while such research “has its place in examining the frequency of walking, it is overly focused on the built environment and lacks a much needed engagement with the actual experience of walking” (90). Ignoring what happens while people walk means that “the practice of walking is essentialised and the heterogeneity associated with different pedestrian experiences overlooked” (91). Middleton is interested in “how pedestrian movement is situated within writings concerning the democratic possibilities of urban public space; the role of walking in performative engagements with the city; pedestrian movement as a means of reading/knowing urban space; and the relationship between walking and art” (91). Her “overall aim is to address how these forms of engagement with walking translate, or provide a medium, for the broader concerns of those such as policymakers as to who walks and why” (91). Some form of rapprochement between seeing walking as a research subject and as a method of enquiry is necessary, according to Middleton, because it would “assist policymakers in their own declared interest in gaining a greater understanding of walking and the ways in which it can be more effectively promoted” (91). 

She’ll get no argument from me: I would like to take planners in my city on walks in some of the most dreadful places for pedestrian activity that exist here—places they have designed, or at least allowed to happen—to ask them what it feels like to ambulate on, for instance, a busy street without a sidewalk, or one with a broken sidewalk where uncovered access holes lie in wait to break unwary ankles; what it feels like to cross an asphalt parking desert on a hot summer day, or to have to run across a busy street because the green walk light gives you no time to make it across six lanes of traffic. That’s my dream, but I don’t know how to make it a reality. 

But that’s not all Middleton hopes to accomplish. She wants to think about how walking as a methodology “might be drawn upon to understand the practical accomplishment of walking, or ‘how’ people walk, in contrast to the current fixation on walking methods being used to uncover more ‘authentic’ access to experiences relating to a broad range of other concerns” (91). Her argument, she continues, is that “in focusing on what it is to ‘do’ walking,” we can see issues that are critical “for comprehending both ‘how’ and ‘why’ people walk” emerge,” which “include the material, embodied, affectual, political, and social dimensions of moving on foot” (91). Oh, add cultural to that list, please. Surely places that are walkable create cultures of walking, where it’s a normal activity and not a form of deviance.

Middleton notes that walking has attracted significant policy interest in the UK, and that surveys and other forms of research have attempted to collect data on pedestrian activities. “Whilst these types of data go some way in examining the frequency of walking, there is little relating to the meaning and significance of journeys on foot to different groups and individuals and how these journeys actually unfold,” she writes. Such issues “are paramount for gaining a greater understanding of how walking could be promoted more effectively” (91). However, most of the research assumes that walking is “a homogenous and largely self-evident means of getting from one place to another” (92). However, walking is complex, and it’s not just a form of functional transportation. For instance, while “situating walking in the broader context of people’s everyday lives is relatively new in the transport geography/transport studies arena,” Middleton writes, “the role of walking in relation to the socialities of everyday life has long been engaged with in social and cultural theoretical writings” (93).

Middleton goes on to cite several examples of “the emancipatory potential” of walking in urban spaces: the work of Richard Sennett on “the social heterogeneity of public urban spaces,” which “offers unpredictable encounters that are democratic and civilising” (93); Kevin Lynch’s The Image of the City, which emphasized “focusing on people’s perceptions, sense of place, and mental images of the urban built environment” (93); and Jane Jacobs’s The Death and Life of the Great American Cities (93). “However,” she continues, “much of the literature on walking in the city reflects a romanticism whereby walking is often considered, without question, as a positive urban practice,” including Michel de Certeau’s essay “Walking in the City,” which “positions walking as a form of urban emancipation that opens up a range of democratic possibilities” (93). “In the context of the policy and transport planning concerns discussed in this paper, such as who walks and why, the writings of de Certeau on walking and the everyday raise some interesting issues relating to political resistance,” she writes (93-94). Do people who navigate city streets in their everyday lives really frame their walking as political resistance (94)? How much are “regimented and constrained” by their walking (94)? How are “bodily performances . . . ordered and regulated” in different social and geographical contexts (94)? What about the fear pedestrians experience while walking (94)? And aren’t there a multiplicities of urban walking practices that actually take place (94)? 

What about “the non-rational, non-cognitive, and embodied dimensions of travel behaviour?” Middleton asks regarding not theorists like de Certeau, but policy and planning research (95). “For instance, in policy terms an area might be considered more ‘walkable’ if a pedestrian is able to walk on autopilot and the flow of their movement is uninterrupted by an awareness of their embodied experiences,” she writes, but what about the way that walking is “a fundamental human activity and way of interacting with the environment,” a feature of walking that has attracted the attention of writers, artists, and philosophers (95)? “Therefore, in what ways can discussions that engage with the more embodied and experiential dimensions of walking inform more policy orientated research[?]” she asks. “Are there ways in which the long tradition of performatives and artistic engagements with walking [can] be drawn upon?” (95).

Middleton lists some artistic walking practices, acknowledging that “they constitute a poetic engagement with walking which is not necessarily suitable for exploring concerns relating to people’s everyday pedestrian experiences” (95). She cites Tim Edensor’s discussion of everyday walking and artistic walking (which is waiting for me to read) but feels it does not focus enough on the quotidian (95). She mentions the flâneur and psychogeography (96), but notes that “there are some who remain particularly critical of using the concept of the flâneur and pedestrian movement as a means of ‘reading’ the city” because it cannot be reduced to a methodology and is gender-biased (particularly the flâneur) (97). Besides, the continues, most urban walkers do not consider their movements in relation to the wanderings of the flâneur, according to empirical research (97). And yet, these various forms of artistic walking highlight “the need for a greater sensitivity within transport geography/planning research to the experiential dimensions of pedestrian movement and how there are other ways of understanding pedestrian movement than mapping and quantifying its frequency” (97). “In other words,” she writes, “how walking the streets can be drawn upon the study the city’s everyday rituals and habits, or to emphasise the sensory and sensual dimensions of urban life,” is something geographers could learn from these other walking practices (97). Many of the artistic practices she has listed aren’t about walking as such, but rather look at walking as a form of research (97). For that reason, they could be used to increase understanding of walking experiences that might usefully inform policy concerns with encouraging pedestrian movement” (97).

Middleton now turns to the “mobilities turn” in the social sciences, which has been presented as a theoretical position that challenges the stasis of previous social science research (97-98). The value of this new paradigm “relates to recognising what actually happens between A and B”: the ways that movement is entangled with questions of power, identity and embodiment (98). Examples of methodologies that have come out of this shift include walking interviews, mobile photography elicitation methods, and accompanied walks (98). Middleton discusses the pros and cons of these methodologies, according to social-science literature (98). I’m not so interested in those pros and cons; I’m already convinced that getting planners who are interested in walkability to have pedestrian experiences could only enrich their work. Besides, she continues, while these walking methods are not unproblematic, “there are numerous bodies of work that utilise the practice of walking, or mobile methods, as a resource or approach for research concerning other broader issues” (99). She lists quite a few research projects that use walking as a method, but despite this “rich range of theoretically sophisticated work drawing upon walking as a method, there is little that adopts walking as a method to explore the practice of walking itself” (100). “Can walking methods situated in social and cultural theoretical writings be effectively drawn upon by policymakers in gaining a more nuanced understanding of walking practices?” she asks. “And if so, how might this be achieved?” (100). Also, what are the implications of bringing theoretical writings on walking into a dialogue with “more policy orientated transport research” (100)? 

Middleton’s conclusion addresses that last question, returning to the distinction she made earlier between walking as a subject for research and walking as a research method (100). Much of this discussion is inside baseball (inside cricket?) to me, because I’m not concerned with the lack of dialogue between “transport geographers and mobilities scholars” (100). She returns to artistic projects in her conclusion—participatory walks organized in cities across the globe by URBAN EARTH, the participatory research project organized by Mywalks at Northumbria University, the Mis-Guides produced by Wrights & Sites—and the division between these walking projects and the concerns of planners and policymakers with “the mundane, everyday pedestrian movements of commuting, the school run, or trips to the shops” (100). “As such, it is perhaps worth considering how these creative engagements with walking can be incorporated into the habitual, day-to-day pedestrian practices of city residents as opposed to being ‘one off’ events,” she states (100). “With a surge of popularity and interest in mobile methods, and proliferation of promoting more ‘creative’ means of people engaging with their surroundings,” could ongoing, participatory pedestrian projects (she cites two examples) “be drawn upon much more explicitly be pedestrian planning and policy as a means of not only exploring the ‘how’s’ of walking” but as a way for the public to bring their concerns to the attention of planners and politicians (102)? “It is questions such as these that are proposed as a starting point to an increased dialogue between multiple engagements with walking in order to develop enhanced understandings of pedestrian practices,” she concludes (102).

Middleton’s article is useful—particularly its bibliography, which covers work in human geography particularly well—and it implies the notion of a culture of walking in the UK, without discussing that culture explicitly. The existence of heritage walks, or of an art project intended “to produce a visual walking guide entitled ‘Walk Islington: Explore the unexpected” (102), suggests that walking is normalized in the UK to the extent that people engage in pedestrian activities as a leisure activity—beyond simply walking around in parks. That culture doesn’t exist in this city, in my experience, and it’s one reason that I think it would be difficult, if not impossible, to engage in participatory or convivial walking here. How could one set up an art walk that parodies heritage tours without the existence of heritage tours in the culture already? Don’t the convivial art walking practices I’ve read about require the existence of other forms of walking as a norm against which they react?

Work Cited

Middleton, Jennie. “Walking in the City: The Geographies of Everyday Pedestrian Practices.” Geography Compass, vol. 5, no. 2, 2011, pp. 90-105. DOI: 10.1111/j.1749-8198.2010.00409.x.