The five pieces that follow are individual reflections on the aspects and experiences of a floor and
a ground, and about the experience of walking on the floor and the ground as a fundamental
phenomenon we encounter in buildings, gardens, cities and settlements.
Read the texts two or
for a walk yourse
lk it carefully, and
Reflect on the experience of the walk: what you’ve seen, what you’ve heard, what
you’ve smelt, what you’ve felt.
Then do two things.
First read the reading from Rebecca Solnit’s
book Wanderlust that’s posted on CULearn
, and then
write a 150 - to 200-word reflection on
own walk that records its twists and turns, and its experiences in the light of what you’ve learned
from Rebecca Solnit.
Descriptions of this kind, like
pictographic maps, are ways of catching
experiences, and writers and map makers embroider their worlds, according to the medieval
cartographer Fra Mauro.
So your piece of writing should be thing you use to embroider your walk,
and your world.
Use any format you choose: prose, poetry or whatever, but do it on a single piece
Please type your written response, if you can. Makes it easier to read when there are
160 or more to read and go through.
Turn in your reflection before or during class on Tuesday,
Put your name and student ID on your piece.
You may also turn in your reflection
digitally by sending it either as an attachment or as text within the body of an email to me at
Take a Walk:
excerpted from Walking, by Henry Thoreau
I have met with but one or two persons in the course of my life who understood the art
of walking: that is persons who had a genius, so to speak, for sauntering.
Sauntering is a word is
beautifully derived from
without land or a home, which in a good sense will mean having
no particular home, but being equally at home everywhere, sauntering through the woods and
over the hills and fields absolutely free from all worldly engagements. For this is the secret of
It is itself the enterprise and adventure of the day. Our expeditions are but
tours and come round again at evening to the old hearth from which we set out. Half the walk is
but retracing our steps.