Care as Specification: centring lived experience in every decision
Winter corners
On a cold corner, the city becomes teacher. The curb is a sheet of practiced ice. A parent wrestles a stroller, groceries, and the feeling that they are in the way. Human-centred justice begins when we realize that the design problem is not the person, it is the choreography the street demands of them.
Listening looks like logistics
We sit in that shelter with all its users: elders, teens, shift workers, drivers. We want to learn about wind angles, bench edges that bruise, timetables hidden behind fogged glass. And we want to learn the cadence of this corner: the hot breath of the bus, the sprint across a too-wide span, the quiet relief when a hand finds a rail.
What dignity asks for
Dignity asks for small things that add up to a different day: a shelf in the washroom for a bag and a dignity that doesn’t touch the floor; a hook placed where a kid can reach and a grandparent doesn’t have to stretch; a pause point every few dozen meters, so a walk becomes a walk, not an endurance test. Justice lives at this scale – the scale of wrists, of breath, of winter.
Care as a specification
What we hear comes back to the drawing table. Stories don’t become slogans. They are the design interventions. Words turned into distances you can measure with your body. Thresholds that offer clear sightlines and shelter from biting winds. When care is in the brief, time softens. The nurse finishes a shift and doesn’t have to stand. A child can read a symbol without asking. An elder holds a rail that doesn’t steal their heat. None of this is a favour. It is the baseline we owe one another when we agree to share a city.
Empathy is a doorway, not a destination. Justice is the room you build – the room with places to set things down, to breathe, to be seen. A shelter becomes shared space, a pocket of ordinary: a backpack on a shelf, a stroller parked without apology, a small conversation about someone’s new job. It feels unremarkable, which is another word for successful.
Ready to bring care into your design brief? Let’s chat.
Editorial Note: The scenes above are composite, near‑future vignettes drawn from community conversations, lived experience, and our practice principles. They are not descriptions of Lemon Papaya projects (yet). They illustrate the kinds of choices we co‑create with partners.