Walking has been pretty ordinary in my day; sometimes I don’t even think about it beyond going from one place to another. But recently, especially with one of my buddies who has been really getting me to walk really far for no reason, I realize that walking means more to me than just getting from point A to point B. This project forced me to slow down, to notice how each walk carries its own atmosphere, purpose, and emotional weight. As I move around campus, downtown Blacksburg, Philadelphia, Myrtle Beach, or anywhere in my hometown, walking forms a bridge between the different versions of my life. These entries became a record of that shifting time and routine, discovery, comfort and inconvenience, past and present.
On campus, walks were functional—catching the bus, retrieving forgotten keys, navigating shortcuts, or heading toward food. These familiar routes revealed how movement shapes daily rhythms and self-discovery. In Philadelphia, walking felt different: cinematic, nostalgic, and charged with memory. I used to live in Philly while I was younger, and after I moved to Virginia, the lights now resonate with me in a different way—like a young adult who wants to experience a different life than what they learned in their suburban town. A Chinatown glowing after midnight, a quiet street, all of these different walks that I’ve taken so far while working on this project just showcase to me how much walking, slowing down, and the environment influence my mood and my memories, and how little details have been shaping my understanding of the places I go to.
This ABCDEary—this in-order dictionary—became not just a collection of walks but a map to knowing how movement, memory, and meaning intersect in my daily life.
B is for Bus
2.16 “Waiting in Line” | Photograph and text | Wednesday, Oct. 29
The fear setting in as I see the buses in front start pulling out. I need to take the bus to make it home. The piston starts to hiss. I bolt. I reach the door of the bus before it can pull out. The smile of the bus driver reassures me, the doors fling open, I board. Spots seem scarce, but I find one, far back on the left side of the bus. The electric hum of the wheels starts, and with the nauseating instant torque and regenerative braking begins. (90 words)
Figure 10. The Blacksburg Transit bus moments before departure. (Original photograph, Raahul Esakiraja)
C is for Car
2.22 “Stairs versus Elevator” | Photograph and text | Wednesday, Oct. 29
I climb up four flights of stairs. The concrete steps and walls blur into an ugly, confining space. I reach the door and step onto the fourth floor of the parking garage. My car waits for me, ready for the trip to Walmart. I reach into my already full pocket, fumbling for my keys. To my horror, they’re not there. Panic sets in. I trace my steps, replaying the walk home in my head, and remember I left them in my friend’s bag at the gym. He’s still on campus. (90 words)
Figure 11. The fourth-floor view from the parking garage. (Original photograph, Raahul Esakiraja)
M is for Mistake
2.18 “A Wish for Something to Be Different” | Photograph and text | Wednesday, Oct. 29
As I sadly trudge back through the apartment building toward the bus stop, the weight of my mistake piles on. I realize I’ll have to go all the way back to campus, find my friend, get my keys, and then trudge once more to the bus loop before finally heading home. The thought drains me. The small victory of almost being done with the day slips away, replaced by the dull ache of inconvenience. My journey home stretches endlessly, every step heavier than the last. I want to go home. (90 words)
Figure 12. The return walk to the bus loop after realizing the mistake. (Original photograph, Raahul Esakiraja)
P is for Pamplin
2.07 “What Even Goes On in There?” | Photograph and text | Thursday, Oct. 30
He’s in Pamplin, a building I’ve always loathed. It reminded me of my high school, unrenovated, dull, and boring. I walked through its ugly halls toward room 1005, where my friend’s class was. He stepped out, handed me my keys, and went back inside. That short exchange, solving my unnecessarily long trip, left me both irritated and satisfied that it was over. I turned around and began the walk back to the bus stop, deciding against Walmart. I just wanted to go home, lie down, and let the day end. (90 words)
Figure 13. Inside Pamplin Hall, just outside room 1005. (Original photograph, Raahul Esakiraja)
H is for Hungry
2.08 “Sporting Event / Destination Walk” (adapted for dining route) | Photograph and text | Friday, Oct. 31
I walked from class to the only place I could think to satisfy both my hunger and wallet, Qdoba. It’s become part of a routine, the quiet walk that fills the space between exhaustion and comfort. I pass people rushing somewhere else, but for me, this is the stop that slows the day down. I always order the biggest bowl I can get, something that will last for lunch and dinner. The walk feels worth it every time, no distance is too far for food.I usually end up feeling sluggish after this meal, so I go home and sleep. (90 words)
Figure 14. My walk to Qdoba for the usual late-day meal. (Original photograph, Raahul Esakiraja)
T is for Tattoo Parlor
2.18 “A Wish for Something to be Different” | Photograph and text | Wednesday, Oct. 29
For months now, I’ve been wanting to get a piercing, two studs, and I finally decided to randomly do it. The walk to the tattoo parlor was low-energy, just a nice, calm walk. It really did feel like autumn had hit. I headed straight toward the tattoo parlor, thinking about how waiting transforms into stillness. As I got closer, that stillness hit me, I’m really going to do this. I walked inside, opened the door, and was greeted by Gary, the one who was going to give me the piercing. (90 words)
Figure 05. Walking through downtown fog toward the tattoo parlor. (Original photograph, Raahul Esakiraja)
K is for Keys
2.12 “Indoor Walk” | Photograph and text | Wednesday, Oct. 29
The short walk to the pianos in Henderson. The air shifts the second I step inside Squires from my outside walk, then to outside on the patio, then from the patio straight into Henderson Hall. The building is very claustrophobic and smells of old carpet. The keys playing from the other rooms remind me I’m where all the pianos are. Then I walk into the small room I’ve been in countless times. It’s just me and the piano; the keys feel calm, like my place away from all the noise. (90 words)
Figure 06. The walk to Henderson. (Original photograph, Raahul Esakiraja)
F is for Fog
2.03 “Overhead at Time of Day” | Photograph and text | Thursday, Oct. 30
This morning, the fog sat heavy over campus, blurring the tops of buildings and softening every sound. I looked up and couldn’t even see the sky, just a gray solid sheet that felt like it was pressing closer with each step. Streetlights glowed like little suns behind the haze. The air was cool and still, every breath slow and visible. The familiar blacksburg wind stung my ears even though it was 12:30 PM, not an inviting bit of warmth anywhere. Everyone was still out and about going to classes. (90 words)
Figure 07. Early afternoon fog hanging low over campus walkways. (Original photograph, Raahul Esakiraja)
E is for Electricity
2.07 “What Even Goes On in There?” | Photograph and text | Thursday, Oct. 30
The building hums from next to me. I can’t legally go in there, so I peek in from the windows. Men in blue collar clothing shuffle through the building. One with a clipboard looking at a gauge on a machine. There were metal stairs that led to somewhere out of sight. Many voices came from the building but most people were hidden behind machines or out of sight. I never knew what goes in the power plant building on campus, so this walk allowed me to see what happens inside. (90 words)
Figure 08. My walk next to the Electricity Plant . (Original photograph, Raahul Esakiraja)
S is for Shortcut
2.34 “Directions for a First-Year Student” | Photograph and text | Tuesday, Oct. 29
Dear Future Hokie,
You’ll learn fast at shortcuts are just sidewalks plus speed, but there are good paths to get to where you got to go in the fastest time possible.Taking this one behind Burres if you’re coming from Orange Bay or Maroon Bay is easy, you walk up right past Whitmore Hall you go up the stairs straight past the architecture library and four pyramids. You don’t have to rush because just walking up past those pyramids gets you halfway across campus without having to think about it.(90 words)
Figure 09. The hidden path behind Burruss Hall and on a clear afternoon. (Original photograph, Raahul Esakiraja)
A is for Achievement
2.21 “Blacksburg’s Best Walk” | Photograph and text | Friday, Nov. 8
Climbing Dragon’s Tooth felt like a test none of us had properly prepared for. I was already terrified of heights, and one of my friends somehow decided to hike in heels, so every step felt risky. The trail was steep, rocky, and honestly stressful, and I kept wondering if our group would even make it. But reaching the summit felt unreal, like we’d won something together. Then darkness crashed in fast, and we practically sprinted down the mountain, slipping in darkness. Still, we survived, laughed, and achieved the seemingly impossible.(90)
Figure 10. The summit to Dragon Tooth Trail (Original photograph, Raahul
D is for Doing
2.12 “Indoor Walk” | Photograph and text | Friday, Nov. 29
Working in the garage, walking back and forth between tools, wood, and scattered sketches, I felt what “doing” really means. This table started as a loose idea in my head, something imagined during my home depot run, but each step across the concrete floor turned imagination into progress. The indoor walk became part of the project, measuring, cutting, checking, rechecking. Sawdust collected around my feet like proof. Slowly the shape revealed itself, transforming effort into something real. Doing felt grounding, like watching my thoughts turn into a physical object I could finally hold
Figure 11. Tools and parts scattered during the mid-build stage. (Original photograph, Raahul Esakiraja)
G is for Green Goblin
3.16 “ Non-Commercial Walk” | Photograph and text | Thursday, Nov. 14
The whole scene felt straight out of a Spider-Man movie. The glowing green lights covering City Hall made it look like the Green Goblin could drop down at any moment, perched somewhere above the street and watching everything unfold. The green overcast on the building just looked really cool. Even though I wasn’t buying anything or doing anything special, the walk felt cinematic, like the city had temporarily shifted into a different universe. The glowing towers, empty pavement, and colors created a moment that felt surreal, spooky, and strangely energizing. (90)
Figure 12. Philadelphia City Hall lit in green during a nighttime walk.(Original photograph, Raahul Esakiraja)
I is for Imagination
2.01 “Campus Map of the Imagination” | Photograph and text | Friday, Nov. 29
Standing in Home Depot, staring at stacks of lumber and the glowing price labels, my mind drifted far past the aisles. I started imagining table designs, sketching possibilities in my head because my dad stole my desk and I have no furniture in my room back in Richmond. The wood wasn’t just material; it was potential, edges, angles, finishes. I wandered between boards imagining what each could become. That small walk through the store felt like a walk through my own plans, quietly mapping out what I hoped to build. (90)
Figure 13. The boxed table during the first moment of imagining the final product. (Original photograph, Raahul Esakiraja)
J is for Jailed
3.03 “ Absurdist Tour” | Photograph and text | Saturday, Nov. 13
Right outside of the Sheraton, I saw a random spot that felt oddly trapped in its own atmosphere. The statue stood there, rigid and still, almost imprisoned by the chaos of the city around it. It wasn’t part of any tour, yet it demanded attention, like a bizarre landmark forced to be in its position. I kept thinking how strange it was that something so still could feel so confined. The moment felt weird, as if the city had paused just long enough to frame this figure in accidental captivity. (90)
Figure 14. A statue surrounded by traffic and motion, feeling both jailed and free. (Original photograph, Raahul Esakiraja)
L is for Love
2.16 “Waiting in Line” | Photograph and text | Saturday, Nov. 15
Inside the old pizza place, I felt the same warmth I knew as a kid, even though the city around it has changed. This used to be where my family and I ended every long week, waiting in line while the cooks shouted orders and the ovens crackled with heat. The noise never felt chaotic; it felt like home. Walking past it again, I remembered how love can exist in tiny rituals, shared slices, impatient lines and voices. The warmth in that doorway hasn’t changed, and neither have the memories. (90)
Figure 15. A Philadelphia pizza scene from an afternoon walk. (Original photograph, Raahul Esakiraja)
N is for Night
3.14 ”Star Gazing” | Photograph and text | Friday, Nov. 29
Walking through downtown Philly late at night, the city felt entirely different from when I was a kid. The face on the building glowed above me, almost staring back, and looking up changed the entire pace of my walk. Even without stars, the lights pulled my attention upward the way a clear sky would. The darkness made everything more dramatic and lively. Philly’s nightlife has changed so much since I lived here 10 years ago. How everyone moved, paused, and breathed in the strange stillness wrapped inside all those lights.(90)
Figure 16. The face-like building illuminated in the night. (Original photograph, Raahul Esakiraja)
O is for the Orient
3.12 “ Five Senses”| Photograph and text | Saturday, Nov. 13
Walking through Chinatown in Philadelphia felt like stepping into another world, one I didn’t even expect to find there. I always thought Chinatown was a New York thing, so seeing one in Philly surprised me. Late at night, with the streets empty and every sign glowing in Chinese characters, it genuinely felt like I had crossed into a different country. Lights hummed softly, and the stillness made every detail sharper. Being there made me realize how much I want to travel, how much of the world I want to see. (90)
Figure 17. Entering Chinatown beneath its bright gateway. (Original photograph, Raahul Esakiraja)
Q is for Quiet
3.09 “ Sound Archive” | Photograph and text | Sunday, Nov. 14
Late at night in Philadelphia, around three in the morning, I walked beneath a stretch of Christmas lights glowing softly over the empty street. The whole city felt muted, almost held in place, as if the lights themselves absorbed every sound. I kept listening for noise, but all I heard was faint wind and my own footsteps, recorded quietly in my mind like an accidental sound archive. I am used to cities humming, but here the hush felt strangely comforting, a peaceful pause before everything wakes again.
Figure 18. A quiet, christmas-covered road stretching into the distance. (Original photograph, Raahul Esakiraja)
R is for Remember
3.01 “ Reflective Preparatory Writing” | Photograph and text | Sunday, Nov. 29
Riding the ferris wheel in Myrtle Beach pulled me straight back to senior-year beach week with my hometown friends. I remembered all the small moments that made that week, late-night walks, laughing at nothing, sitting on the beach at 10 PM hoping to catch a fish on a new rod I bought and catching absolutely nothing. Being up there again felt like opening a door to a younger version of myself, reminding me how much those people shaped me. Remembering it all made the present feel warmer and more familiar. (90)
Figure 19. Evening sky over Myrtle Beach during a quiet walk. (Original photograph, Raahul Esakiraja)
U is for United
3.21 “Design Your Own Walking Ritual” | Photograph and text | Thursday, Nov. 26
Our Thanksgiving meal with my hometown friends was loud, funny, and delicious, the kind of feast that makes you feel grateful and overstuffed at the same time. After eating far too much, we slipped back into our usual ritual: the post-Friendsgiving walk. It’s a simple loop around the neighborhood, but it always reminds me how much I miss these people and how quickly time has flown. I especially missed my best friend Srikar, now at Cornell. Moments like this make you realize how deeply we stay united, even with distance. (90)
Figure 20. Walking up to the house for Friendsgiving. (Original photograph, Raahul Esakiraja)
V is for Varnish
2.05 “ A Good Bench” | Photograph and text | Friday, Nov. 29
Finishing my desk and brushing on the last layer of varnish felt strangely emotional. I’d taken an idea from imagination into wood, sanding, shaping, and correcting flaws until it matched the picture in my mind. Watching the surface shine, I realized how rare it is to see effort become something physical I’ll use every day. The desk felt like a good bench, steady, supportive, earned. That final coat sealed more than wood; it sealed pride, patience, and the satisfaction of slowly building something that finally belongs to me right now. (90)
Figure 21. The freshly varnished table catching the light. (Original photograph, Raahul Esakiraja)
W is for Why
2.25 “ Micro-Interview with a Being at Windows” | Photograph and text | Saturday, Nov. 8
Riding the train from Charlottesville to Roanoke after dropping my grandma at the airport, I kept asking myself why we make the choices we do, college, long days, constant movement. Looking out the window, I realized the answer is always love. I went back that day so I could make a hike with my friends, simply because their presence matters to me. Every decision, even the tiring or inconvenient ones, circles back to the people we care about. The train’s rhythm made that truth feel unmistakably clear that evening too. (90)
Figure 22. A train approaching the platform on a cold day. (Original photograph, Raahul Esakiraja)
X is for Xenon
3.16 “Non-Commercial Walk” | Photograph and text | Sunday, Nov. 27
Walking through the gas station on the way to North Carolina felt unexpectedly refreshing. It was massive and almost luxurious, stocked with every product imaginable, from strange snacks to overpriced souvenirs. Retro neon and xenon lights washed the aisles in a soft glow, giving the whole place a futuristic, boutique energy. Even though everything invited browsing, I didn’t want to buy the overpriced items. Instead, I wandered freely, enjoying the rare feeling of being in a commercial space without participating in it. The walk felt calm, bright, and strangely nomadic. (90)
Figure 23. Passing through the gas station’s xenon-lit lot without stopping to buy, just absorbing the glow. (Original photograph, Raahul Esakiraja)
Y is for Yesterday
2.32 “ Shortest Walk” | Photograph and text | Sunday, Nov. 28
Yesterday I took a short walk on the beach, and it felt strangely out of season. The middle of November is not the right time for the beach, yet the shoreline felt astonishing. The cold air stung, but it also woke something in me, reminding me how easily we drift from the environment around us. Even though it was the wrong location for the time of year, the place was still beautiful. The walk was brief, quiet, and grounding, a moment of clarity carried by the rhythm of the water. (90)
Figure 24. A familiar path revisited the next day. (Original photograph, Raahul Esakiraja)
Z is for Zebra Crossing
2.14 “ Signage” | Photograph and text | Saturday, Nov. 14
I was in Philadelphia for a debate conference, convinced I had tanked my awards. Awards felt distant. Then they called my name, and the room spun in disbelief. Later, I slipped outside into the city air. At the zebra crossing, I waited with a group of strangers, eyes fixed on the red hand. I felt suspended there, between doubt and motion, until the white walking figure blinked on and I finally moved. Each step felt earned and fragile. The waiting is similar to my waiting for confirmation of my award. (90)
Figure 25. The zebra-striped Philadelphia crosswalk during afternoon traffic. (Original photograph, Raahul Esakiraja)