Moon River

Studying urban design teaches me that cities are never truly finished. They are constantly evolving, shaped by time, by movement, by the quiet forces we rarely notice. Streets are rerouted, buildings rise and fall, spaces once forgotten find new purpose. And in many ways, life is no different.

We like to think of life as something we can plan, structured, predictable, designed with intent. But the reality is much messier. There are moments of careful planning, but also moments of improvisation, of finding new paths when the old ones no longer lead where they used to.

In cities, there is always tension between preservation and progress. How much of the past do we hold on to? How much do we let go in order to move forward? These are the same questions we face in life. We carry memories like historic landmarks, honoring them for what they once were, but we also learn that change is inevitable. To grow, we must sometimes allow parts of ourselves to be rebuilt.

Some spaces are carefully designed, while others emerge naturally over time. A well-worn path across a park, formed not by architects but by the people who walk it every day, is proof that not everything in life needs to be mapped out. Sometimes, the most meaningful routes are the ones we create as we go.

Cities, like people, are always in the process of becoming. They adapt, they reinvent themselves, they find ways to thrive even after being broken. And maybe that’s what I’ve learned, not just as a student but as a person. That we, too, are works in progress. That we are not meant to remain the same. That just like the spaces we shape, we are meant to evolve, to change, to become.