This walk is distinguished by linearity.
Even its detours succumb to that linearity.
Cutting right across France in order to enter Switzerland in the west and walk the span of the Alps; turning west in Albania to meet the coast; sinking south in Greece to climb Olympus; walking north to see Bulgaria and summit Musula.
All diversions fall into the line, become the line, make the line.
Anything that cannot be made linear is disavowed. Contrasting the walk with the time I spend in cities, they feel like something other entirely. Cities defy linearity, sprawl, agglomerating.
It seems to me that it is impossible to write in a linear way about and in cities—they’re necessarily nonlinear places.
