This chapter aims to explore the sensuous experience of walking between sites of the city which pull the viewer into different historical and affective spaces.

Can a smell be a monument? Are the enveloping tons of particulates poisoning city dwellers an atomised monument to lack of foresight? When the air is so thick with dust you can taste it, is this a cloud monument parallel to the concrete poured and the rubble pounded? To walk is to be naked to the surfaces of the world, the holes of the body invaded, sound, sight, taste, smell, all without the filter of screen, of glass. Walk to the Park, the trees breathe into me, walk to the River, it flows me to Canada, walk past the Alaska works, seals made into hats.
I work in the abandoned church, the stink of dead pigeons and a gloomy light. Give it the flickering life of a film, local men push over walls, building the flats I live in now, monuments to the present future.