Together with filmmaker and artist Ivor Glavas, I  walked through the Alps - from Switzerland to Italy - tracing a line across shifting terrains, languages, and weathers. Along the way, we foraged for mushrooms, raspberries, and blueberries, slept in hammocks under alpine pines, and woke to fresh snow on the ridgelines. Walking became a way of thinking, sensing, and relating otherwise. Moving side by side, we practiced a form of research that was embodied, open-ended, and contingent - one that trusted in the rhythm of steps, in the unpredictability of paths, in the knowledge that emerged through being-with the mountains.

The walk unfolded as a transversal practice: a crossing between disciplines, species, and scales. It invited us to attend to the ecologies that held us - the rock, the wind, the rain, the snow, the more-than-human kin - and to consider how we might move through them with care.

Walking became a way of composing relations, of listening with the world as collaborator. It was both a method and a mode: transient, relational, and always in motion. In this, friendship itself became a form of inquiry - an act of mutual entrusting, of learning to navigate together through uncertainty, through terrain, through ideas, through practices, through forms of knowledge.