I love walking alone.

Not in a dramatic, soul-searching kind of way. Just in a very practical, everyday way. Put my AirPods in, press play, and let the city do its thing while I do mine.

I always walk with headphones. Always. Ever since I got the AirPods Pro, the noise cancellation has been a game changer. It tunes everything else out and suddenly the city becomes a backdrop instead of the main event. Cars, chatter, traffic, all of it fades into the background. It’s just me, my thoughts, and whatever I’m listening to that day.

Most of my walks happen at night, usually after dinner. Something about walking once the day is over helps me process everything that’s happened. The conversations, the work stuff, the random thoughts that pile up without asking for permission. Nights are quieter. There are fewer distractions. It feels easier to think when the city slows down a little.

I walk to think, to observe, and to escape. All at once. Walking gives me time to see how people move through public spaces, how they interact, how they behave when they think no one’s paying attention. It also gives me space to deal with my own thoughts without sitting still and overthinking them. And sometimes, yes, it’s simply about getting away from everything for a bit.

Living in Madrid city centre gives me endless options. Depending on the day, I might head towards Gran Vía and Plaza de España, wander through Chueca, Malasaña, Salesas, or around Alonso Martínez. Other days it’s Retiro, or Goya, or Ibiza, or Narváez, or O’Donnell. I never really plan it. I just start walking and see where my feet take me.

One thing I’ve learnt about myself is that I walk fast. Very fast. Friends who occasionally join me have called me out on it more than once. “What’s the rush?” they ask. “Slow down. Walk with me.” I try. I really do. But slow walkers test my patience in a way very few things do.

I’ll give it twenty or thirty seconds. I’ll walk behind someone who’s moving at a painfully relaxed pace, having a full-blown gossip session right in the middle of the pavement. I’ll wait. I’ll breathe. And then, if nothing changes, I’ll make my move. I’ll find a gap, walk around them, and reclaim my rhythm. Sometimes this causes minor chaos. A surprised “oh!” here, a confused look there. But it’s better than me saying “move” out loud or physically pushing my way through. This way, everyone survives.

Walking alone has never felt strange to me. It’s never felt lonely. If anything, it’s where I feel most like myself. It’s my time. My pace. My thoughts. No explanations required.

So I can’t help but wonder, do we choose how we move through a city based on convenience, or based on how much space we need to feel like ourselves?

Either way, if you see someone power-walking past you at night with headphones on, fully in their own world… yeah. That’s probably me.

— Raulito