A Letter from the Editor

Dear Reader,

When was the last time we found ourselves lost in a city? I don’t mean turned around — unaware of which way is north. I mean, genuinely lost. It isn’t easy to lose ourselves anymore. Should most of us have the slightest inkling that we’ve ended up in the ‘wrong’ place, we reach into our pockets for our smartphones. Within minutes, we’re back on the right track, guided by our digital assistants. For some, the idea of being lost in a metropolis is the stuff of nightmares. But the nineteenth-century flâneur revelled in the experience. Finding themselves adrift in the city allowed them to stumble upon something new and exciting. So why, in the twenty-first century why does the idea of being lost feel so negative to so many of us?

Productivity could be one answer. Look at that smartphone again; somewhere in the usage statistics, it will reveal our daily productivity as a screen time percentage. We like to think of ourselves as being productive, whether online or in the real world. Being lost isn’t productive, or so we’re led to believe. It is wasting time. Few would consider the experience as an opportunity to learn more about our surroundings and ourselves. When we are lost, we begin to search. Ironically, aimless searching of the internet is now standard practice. But, searching a city, dawdling around for pleasure alone, seems outdated to some, maybe even quite strange. In the city, we seem to need a plan. We need to be going somewhere. We need to be shopping. Or going to work. Or walking to a restaurant or bar. To quote William Henry Davies, “We have no time to stand and stare.”

Yet, we do have time. The average internet user spends between two and two and a half hours viewing social media, per day. That’s over two days per month of solid Facebook, Instagram, and whatever else. Many of us are content to spend significant time browsing the content shared within our social network, but less inclined to wander the city for pleasure.

The act of flânerie could be considered a dying art. Another reason for this is related to safety and control. When browsing the internet, we have some authority over our online experience, mainly who we interact with. Furthermore, we often conduct our cyberflâneurie from the comfort of our own homes. When wandering the city, we open ourselves to the unpredictability and potential danger of every passing moment. Perhaps we retreat into virtual worlds because we can select the crowd within which we mingle and are not faced with the immediate possibility of physical threat.

The deeper we immerse ourselves in our online lives, the more selective we become. Look at all the pedestrians who navigate the city wearing noise-cancelling headphones. They are on the street, but they choose not to hear the random orchestra of city life. They want to hear their own selection of music and little more. Street noise may seem dull to them, irritating, overwhelming, or maybe even threatening, so wearing headphones allows them to control what they hear.

In social media marketing, we often hear the term ‘tailored personal experience’ referring to “personalised interactions and content designed to meet the unique preferences and needs of individual users.” This is another reason why we are prepared to devote significant time to our online world—the internet is evolving so that we see only the things in which we are interested.

The city cannot possibly function in this manner. When walking, our surroundings cannot be altered to suit us alone. And isn’t that a wonderful thing? We look down at our phone screens to slip into a world tailored for us. But, if we look outward into the city, we connect with a network that contains everyone. Flânerie has never been about the inward-looking self. On the contrary, it is about losing oneself in the crowd, observing and understanding the lives of others by watching how they move through the city. Flânerie is about not only tolerating but embracing the randomness of the city. It is about the individual accepting that the city does not exist for them alone.

As we become sensitive to the lives of those around us, rather than focusing narrowly on ourselves, our curiosity and empathy grow. We begin to make connections more powerful and surprising than any cyber flâneur could dream of. Interaction with the city emphasises a key aspect of being human: we all have our differences but are capable of existing together. For all its noise and chaos, the city is ultimately an emblem of tolerance and togetherness.

As editor of an online literary journal, it may appear ironic that I advocate spending significantly less time on the internet. The internet has undoubtedly become an indispensable tool for navigating contemporary life — but it should not become life itself. I spend less time online than most, but I still worry that I am spending too many hours looking at a screen each month. How much do we remember from our on-screen time? The experience melts away to nothing. Whereas, walking in cities forges unforgettable memories.

Reading the poetry and prose published in our 39th issue reminds us to devote more time to flânerie . The writing captures the delights, rhythms, and emotional experience of urban walking. After reading it, I hope you feel inspired to put away your phone, even for a few minutes, and go out for a stroll. We learn so much from walking and playing the flâneuse/flâneur. To quote Baudelaire, it is one of the ‘higher joys’ of life and one that is now so often overlooked.

Happy holidays,

Darren Richard Carlaw

editor@stepawaymagazine.com