My walks are just streets and car parks—am I even outside?

Nasreddin used to tell his wife he went "out in nature" every morning. One day she asked what he saw. He said: a pigeon at war with an empty crisp packet, three magpies arguing over a fry, and a puddle holding the whole sky in it like a cup. She said, "Hodja, that is a car park." He said, "Yes. And?" Most of our walks now go through streets, car parks, and retail strips. No soil, no water, no real green. We still call it "getting outside," because admitting we built lives with no wild in them feels worse than the walk itself. The fix is not moving house or finding a park. It is changing what you hunt for on the same tired route — and hunting for it with someone else, so the ugly stretch becomes something you actually talk about.