Biophilic design seeks to bring people closer to nature; however, projects have shown that buildings meant to reconnect us with the natural world can just as easily disconnect people from it.

Networking events can often feel hit or miss, leaving us questioning whether they’re worth the effort. Yet a mindset of continual curiosity can guide us toward new opportunities—and perhaps even a place where we truly belong.

Long before we can name comfort, beauty or unease, our unconscious mind is already responding to the environment around us. That reality, one interior designer argues, demands greater responsibility in how we design the spaces people inhabit every day.

An architecture student has set out to explore what design can become when it truly listens to place.

A global urban planner is showing just how transformative a city can become when people—not cars or metrics—sit at the centre of its design.

To tell a story like Yurlu is to slow down—to resist the extraction of fast-paced media and instead attune to Country’s rhythm, where listening becomes a form of care.

Across the globe, there are communities that have mastered the art of living well across generations—like the Greek island of Ikaria, where many residents live well into their 100s—nourished not just by diet or lifestyle, but by intergenerational relationships, cultural continuity and a deep sense of place.

We spend a portion of our lives inside buildings—working, learning, sleeping, living. But how often do we stop to ask: is this place making me feel well?

When Keith Bradby first set foot in Western Australia in 1976, there was no sign of the 1,000-kilometre conservation legacy to come—especially in one of the world’s richest biodiversity hotspots.

Walkable streets, vibrant public spaces and connected communities aren’t luxuries—they’re essentials for human health, social connection and economic vitality. Yet as the pressure to deliver more housing grows, are these conversations being sidelined in planning?