Another Walk In the Park…

…but with a lot more sitting.

I had the pleasure of revisiting Spring Lake Park this past weekend, and I really enjoyed it. It was a different experience, as I “took an hour off” from life to just sit on a bench and observe my surroundings, which made me realize how much happens when I’m not paying attention. In fact, the eerie feeling that I had in my last visit was nonexistent, as I always felt like something/some movement was going on around me!

After observing the park for an hour, I feel like I have a pretty good idea of what it looks like.

As I sat and looked around, I heard a lot of different sounds, like:

These are all the sounds that I heard when I was at the park.

I also noticed a lot of different people, like:

These are all the different types of people that I saw at the park.

• Why might walking in the city have an element of transgression? What is the relationship between safety and risk while walking in the city?
• Walking in the city does have an element of transgression to it, because you just don’t feel like you should be there. The fact that Chicago has been a frontrunner as one of the most dangerous cities in the US is quite alarming and supports that statement, as the simple act of walking down a street makes people feel like they’re the ones that are committing a crime... To further elaborate, a personal example would be when I walk from the Brown Line to the Union Station, as I always have a sense of fear inside of me, mostly because of the way that the streets look. The cracks, mystery liquids, and old footsteps could be off-putting to anybody, as the streets just don’t feel like they’re safe, or accommodating, enough for everyday use. That says more about the relationship between safety and risk (while walking) in the city then anything else though, as, no matter how bad the streets might seem, Chicago still has a way of “fooling” you into thinking that you might not be close to a (so-called) “dangerous” location, when in fact, you might be a simple five-minute walk away. (197)

One of the many views from my bench.