Recently, I realized that the only shoes I own are sneakers and one pair of Chacos. Usually, this is not a problem. But, unfortunately, I was invited to a dinner where heels were expected and Chacos were not. And so my quest for appropriate footwear began.

Within the first hour, the heavens smiled down upon me and I found the perfect pair of shoes. I won’t bore you with details, but these shoes were awesome. Naturally, there were none in my size. But a pleasantly bored sales clerk told me aboaut a place 20 miles away that did.

There was no time to dally, so off I went.

I had no idea where I was going, but shortly thereafter I found myself in north Knoxville. I found the shoes inside a mall I had never heard of before. It was nothing particularly extraordinary. It had a weird amount of UT paraphernalia on display, but beyond that, it was just another mall.

Before I explain my fascination with this mall, allow me to paint you a picture.

There is a city in east Tennessee called Knoxville (or Big Orange Country, depending on your level of dedication). It is close to the mountains and often covered in a thick layer of smog. In the heart of Knoxville, there is a university with approximately 27,000 people. Many of those people live in a nearby, allegedly questionable area called the Fort. Downtown, mainstream hipsters get food in Market Square. A few minutes away, the Old City bustles with bar-hoppers of legal age (or who at least have an I.D. that says so).

Everything else is irrelevant housing and green blotches of trees.

This was my limited view of Knoxville until about three months ago. I knew there was more to this city, but I’d never had the time or transportation to find out. This summer, I stayed in town partly to explore the place I spent the last 18 to 24 months.

I have since found historic buildings and dilapidated warehouses. The amount of ice cream locations I can now name is impressive in a completely non-shameful way. I have learned more than five street names outside the immediate campus/downtown area. I finally found the dollar movie theater.

My mental portrait of Knoxville is no longer limited to campus and downtown. Now, I more fully appreciate Knoxville’s distinct character. New York is busy and Chicago is loud. Knoxville is scruffy. I’m still not a native, but now I feel a little less like a passerby. Knoxville is more than just the city where I go to school.

But there is still more to find, more colors to add to my mental portrait. Hopefully, by the time I graduate, it will be complete.

And when it is, it will be my masterpiece.

Katrina Roberts is a junior in English and cinema studies. She can be reached at [email protected].