Walking Grounds

When I first transferred to the University of Virginia, Grounds felt vast and, at times, overwhelming. There was so much to see and absorb, and even then the physical landscape seemed to be in motion, with new buildings emerging and paths changing.

After an intense first semester and once finals wrapped up and my first final review concluded, I decided to go on a walk. The walk was simply meant to be a way for me to step away from studio and clear my head, but what was meant to be a short walk quickly became a habit I found myself looking forward to.

I’m often struck by how lucky I am to be here. Being able to walk through Grounds, knowing its history and significance, never really gets old for me. There’s something grounding about moving through a place that carries so much intention, especially when you’re not moving through it for a reason. Walking lets me notice things I would otherwise miss. The way paths connect. The way buildings change as the day progresses. The way certain spots feel completely different depending on when you arrive and how long you linger. 

Some walks are short. Others stretch on for hours. I’ll wander wherever feels right that day. I like exploring without a plan, checking if doors are open, stepping into buildings I’ve never been inside, or taking routes I didn’t know existed. Walks, for me, are not about discovering anything impressive. They’re about staying curious and letting the place, Thomas Jefferson’s University, reveal itself slowly.

After this latest semester wrapped up, I found myself walking most evenings, drawn out by the crisp air and the quiet moment when the day starts to settle. I didn’t set out with the intention of finding the best places to watch the sun set. It happened slowly, almost unintentionally, by standing still long enough each night to notice where the light lingered and how familiar places shifted as the day came to a close.

Revisiting the same paths again and again made me realize how much a place can change depending on when you arrive and how willing you are to stay. The stillness mattered. Watching the sun set became less about the view itself and more about giving myself permission to pause, to notice, and to return to places that felt different each time I saw them.

I’ve found a few spots that feel special to me. I’m not quite ready to give them away just yet. But I’ll offer two hints. I still think the A-School is the best school. And if not there, then maybe you should try looking a little closer to the stars.