A street must remain a street

Valletta’s streets are not spare floor space. They are how neighbours pass each other, how an older person gets home, how a parent pushes a buggy, how a wheelchair user moves through the city, and how a resident reaches their own front door.

Things do not have to disappear overnight for a street to be lost. One object becomes three. A narrow passage becomes a detour. The public way slowly starts to feel like it belongs to somebody else.

The city should welcome visitors and enterprise. But welcome must have limits. A living city leaves room for the people who live in it.

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