Walking through any city for the first time feels special. There's a both a heightened sense of awareness of your surroundings, and a constant desire to find something familiar that make you extremely impressionable. Personally, I find the fleeting moments the most interesting. A couple arguing about which train to take home, a man riding his bike with a fur coat trailing in the wind, or a bra with a sponge in it attached to a light pole. These irreproducible occurrences tell much more about a location than the bit's that don't move, and to me, there is beauty in that interaction.
Other times, when a space has no context, it forces you to provide one for it. Do you situate yourself in it, exploring every nook and cranny? Or do you imagine someone else in it, doing exactly what you'd expect them to be doing? What did the designer have in mind when they laid out the space? Did they do a good job? Or did they miss the mark? Walking around a city is much more than the physical streets, and buildings, and parks, and trash cans; it's all of those things plus thinking about who put them there.
What happens when you get into a car that drives on the other side of the road than you're used to? Why is it unnerving? How about sitting on the second level of a bus where the only thing visually separating you from the world moving at 45 miles an hour around you is a piece of glass? A new technique to view the city allows for a literal new perspective.
Perspective is a funny thing because it can change so easily.
