Agonistic temporalities of urban natures: Green space decay and redevelopment in Turin and Gothenburg

Introduction

In recent decades, urban nature scholarship has provided illuminating entry points to examine the biophysical, aesthetic, political and socio-economic transformations of cities (Clark et al., 2016). Today, in the face of the current environmental crises, both public and political discourses express an increasing urgency to enhance existing metropolitan green spaces (Vandecasteele et al., 2019). Indeed, urban natures are purported to address a multitude of essential city services such as recreation, climate mitigation and biodiversity enhancers (Niemelä, 2014). However, contemporary urban green spaces are often highly diversified due to site-specific evolutionary and historical peculiarities (Derkzen et al., 2017), which complicate catch-all attempts at theorising socio-natural environments, developing practical planning solutions or promoting a comprehensive politics for the more-than-human city. Across disciplines and practices, from the natural sciences (Ossola et al., 2021) to planning (Degen, 2018: 1082–1083), there have been tentative attempts to address this by moving beyond the focus on urban natures’ immediate spatial imprints. Time and temporalities, they propose, play an important yet underdeveloped part in understanding the plural effects that urban natures have on everything from design and management practices, to use and access of urban space. This article adds to this emerging canon by homing in on the other-than-human temporalities of urban natures that diverge from the linear and spatially focused planning praxis of most post-industrial cities.

Though the study of more- and other-than-human temporalities started to gain traction decades ago (Adam, 1998; Bastian, 2009; Jones, 2011; Wood, 2008), much scholarship on urban natures still concerns spatial relations and tensions – that is, how the more-than-human city is ‘put together’, and thus made habitable, in terms of productions of space, urban metabolisms and assemblages, urban governance and so on (Kaika et al., 2023). When temporalities are addressed, it is mainly through a narrow focus on temporal taxonomies drawn from ecological systems research (Hastings, 2010), social constructivist approaches (Urry, 2006) or urban development and planning conceptions of linear progress (Hawken et al., 2025). Recent more-than-human scholarship has sought to expand the notion of ‘urban natures’ (Edwards et al., 2023): from feral (Barua, 2022), queer (Patrick, 2014) and ruderal ecologies (Stoetzer, 2022), to infrastructural flora (Jasper, 2020), plant labourers (Argüelles and March, 2022; Ernwein et al., 2021) and more-than-human commons (Haldrup et al., 2022). But again, most accounts – with a few exceptions (see for instance Dümpelmann (2025) on urban trees as ‘timekeepers’) – do not problematise the diverging and other-than-human temporal dimensions found in cities.

In his seminal reflection on temporal landscapes, anthropologist Tim Ingold teases out a distinction between time and temporality. Time is chronological, such as the Earth’s axial rotations and revolutions around the sun – thus ‘wholly indifferent to the modulations of human experience’ (Ingold, 1993: 158). Temporality is social in that it is ‘grounded in the “rhythms, pulsations and beats of the societies in which they are found”, and for that reason tied to the particular circumstances of place and people’ (Ingold, 1993: 158). The latter definition is frequently used by planning scholars to underscore the need to approach time in its plurality (Degen, 2018; Raco et al., 2008), as it draws ‘attention to how the temporal frames used in planning are not given but are chosen from a plurality of options’ (Lennon and Tubridy, 2023: 302). Just like space, they argue, this latter kind of time is a social product (Addie, 2025) tied to the human politics of urban planning (Laurian and Inch, 2019). However, what goes missing in these accounts are the temporalities of other-than-human beings and matter, which emerge independently, in parallel or in opposition to human city planning. For, if we abide by the more-than-human cornerstone notion that the ‘concept of sociality does not distinguish between human and not human’ (Tsing, 2013: 27), then temporalities as social products must too be approached as an inherently more-than-human matter. Consequently, to adequately account for the politics of the more-than-human city in urban nature planning, both our repertoires of space and temporalities need expanding beyond the human.

To include other-than-human urban temporalities, we propose, does not mean side-lining spatial considerations. Rather, it highlights traits of time in relation to space and vice versa. As we have argued elsewhere (Barchetta, 2021; Rosengren, 2020), to trace urban change in spatio-temporal forms that go beyond a strictly linear, anthropocentric trajectory is key to recognising and broadening attention to the diverging multiplicities that constitute the more-than-human city (Houston et al., 2018). In this article, we argue that the frictions, tensions and confrontations that more-than-human temporal processes give rise to are fundamentally productive towards understanding more-than-human urban pasts and presents, while also building more progressive and inclusive planning politics for socio-ecological futures. Specifically, our article adds to debates on the politics of planning the more-than-human city through a comparative ethnographic study of the temporal confrontations arising from the regeneration of ‘decaying’ green spaces in two post-industrial cities in Europe. Drawing on philosopher Chantal Mouffe’s (1999, 2005, 2007, 2013) writings on agonistic democracy, pluralism and public space, we introduce the concept of agonistic temporalities to theorise the fundamentally plural and polyvocal dimensionality of time in shaping urban natures and planning strategies. Through two empirical snapshots – Arrivore Park in Turin, Italy, and Kvillepiren in Gothenburg, Sweden – this approach reveals how inorganic matter of copper, rubber or arsenic might contribute to the safeguarding of both spontaneous and planted ecologies in areas facing redevelopment, all the while showing how these urban ecologies of ‘weedy’ birches, endangered pondweeds or ‘sabotaging’ Chinese mugworts put into question anthropocentric notions of progress through their very persistence in the changing landscape.

In short, by unveiling the multiple temporal confrontations of urban green space redevelopment, we point to the need for a broader theorisation of the temporalities of urban natures in city planning and more-than-human urban scholarship alike. In the second section, we outline the ethnographic methods adopted and stress the gains in comparing the two cities. In the third section, we consider post-industrial urban natures as entry points to develop the concept of agonistic temporalities. In the fourth and fifth sections, we delve into our two empirical studies, using them in the sixth section for our ultimate analysis of agonistic temporalities of urban natures. In all, through letting agonistic temporalities nuance and sharpen existing more-than-human urban theory, we challenge the conventional view of urban nature temporalities as part of straightforward, linear narratives, and highlight how decaying green spaces may serve as catalysts for a different politics of the more-than-human city.

Analysing apart and together: Ethnography and experimental comparisons between Turin and Gothenburg

A politics for the more-than-human city: Theorising agonistic temporalities

Post-industrial decay and regeneration on the edges of the Stura

The edges of the Stura River in Turin tell both familiar and unique stories about the intersection between urban change and the seasonal and socio-ecological life of urban green spaces. ⁴ The river evokes an uneven history and geography of the city: from an agricultural zone to a manufacturing hub, from an industrial wasteland to a recreational area where spontaneous and cultivated vegetation coexist. Arrivore Park, in the northeastern periphery of Turin, surrounds the river. Originally, the Stura basin was a vast field of wheat, meadows, and marshes that functioned as a transition zone between the city and its outskirts. Until the mid-1960s, part of the land was used to cultivate cereals and fodder, while the Stura’s banks served as a popular destination for Sunday picnics, giving rise to local restaurants and other businesses. From the 1970s onwards, the basin experienced intense exploitation with the industrialisation of the local economy and the digging of numerous quarries. Gravel extraction dredged from the riverbed for construction and road paving still remains visible and, as late as the 2010s, residents recalled their parents forbidding them from playing near the overgrown and weedy banks of the Stura.

With industrialisation, subsidised housing estates designated for factory workers were built in nearby districts. These workers began renting plots of land on which to grow vegetables, herbs and other plants from their home regions. Many were migrants turned workers (operai), who had moved from the South to work in the industrialised North. From the 1940s onwards, these southern émigrés thus began growing fruits and vegetables on acres of state-owned land along the edge of the Stura as an after-work activity, fostering a sense of autonomy and economic livelihood. This working of the soil brought together leisure and subsistence farming with the histories of economic growth and internal migration in the post-Second World War period. Shacks built from recycled material exemplified the architectural features that populated these spontaneous vegetable gardens, where gardeners installed handcrafted water pipes and barriers, and built temporary shelters to store tools and protect themselves from the rain. By the 1970s, however, the area increasingly came to symbolise the adverse effects of deindustrialisation. Scrapyards, shacks, industrial dumps and high unemployment became prevalent. A patchwork of allotment gardens and scrapyards progressively emerged, displaying two colourful sides of the industrial riverbank – the ‘reddish-brown’ of wrecked cars and the ‘greyish-green’ of garden plots. In the 1980s and 1990s, an uptick in international migration to Turin and the densification of affordable and public housing estates in and around the Stura Basin led to a complex, if not contentious, coexistence between established residents and newcomers (Garda et al., 2015).

Over time, stigmas associated with the Basin grew; it became known as a ‘fragile’ periphery in popular discourse, which reflected the social and ecological impacts of post-Fordism. In response to these concerns, just before the 2008 financial crisis, redevelopment began with the Turin City of Waters project. When Arrivore Park opened in 2010, urban allotments were assigned to gardeners, symbolising a step towards reclaiming and revitalising the peripheral riparian zone. The park marked an end to the makeshift gardens that the southern migrants and factory workers had cultivated over the previous 40 years. The municipality stepped in as the official landlord, renting out each parcel of land to laypersons, yet from the very beginning it fell to the gardeners themselves to remove mounds of rocks and rubbish – dishes, pieces of tyres, copper – from the plots. Today, this large green space remains fragmented, with dedicated park areas, playgrounds, ruderal vegetation, urban allotments and riverine habitats intermingling. Nevertheless, over the years, inadequate management, fears of crime and mistrust in the maintenance of the natural landscape have limited its full integration into the city’s riverside network and contributed to negative perceptions of the park. As a 79-year-old municipal allotment gardener recounts: ⁵

I was part of the first group allowed to cultivate vegetable allotments. I knew this place because some friends grew vegetables there [pointing to the hill]. The municipal gardens were set up after the scrapyards, and the Roma settlement was dismantled. Each plot was rented out by the city, but, since it was the very start of the allotment project, we had to clear rocks and rubbish ourselves. It was hard work! I found all kinds of waste while digging: dishes, knives, tyres, copper. It still happens today.

The gardener’s account reveals the layers of waste embedded in the landscape, reflecting how time shapes the overlapping, conflicting temporalities at the site. In these industrial remnants, informal agricultural uses of the past and present persist along the riverbanks: fruit trees and tomato plants pop up in unexpected places, and some sites have been reforested as part of private compensation programmes with common trees of lowland thickets from the Po Valley. Furthermore, northern Italian riparian habitats are particularly prone to invasion by non-native, ruderal plants, notably Japanese knotweed (Reynoutria japonica), butterfly bush (Buddleja davidii) and Chinese mugwort (Artemisia verlotiorum) which quickly colonise and thrive in bare or disturbed soils. During walks, park visitors often paused to observe the dense growth of Chinese mugwort and enjoy the distinctive scent of its leaves. A local environmental educator calls this plant sabotatrici dell'ordine, or ‘saboteur of order’. ⁶ For her, this ‘sabotage’ hinted at the potential for a different kind of green space. For us, it also serves as a lens to understand urban natures as co-constructed across multiple temporalities. Such temporalities enacted by rewilding projects include those of native riparian wilderness represented by species like purple willow (Salix purpurea) and black poplar (Populus nigra), as well as ruderal and horticultural vegetation. In 2024, the City of Turin and Turin Polytechnic launched a collaboration to envision a new design for the park that focused on reconnecting with its distinctive flora. As of now, it is unclear whether these plans will be implemented, revised or abandoned, but the everyday perception of the park’s ‘naturalness’ or ‘wilderness’ nevertheless often leads to confusion, or is simply overlooked.

Arsenic, weed trees and aquatic plants at the harbour wasteland of Kvillepiren

Our second site, Kvillepiren, evokes similar temporal constellations working to the advantage (or disadvantage) of certain municipal visions, and human or other-than-human beings. Kvillepiren is the largest of the three piers that make up the former free port area of Frihamnen (the Free Harbour) in Gothenburg. Situated in the middle of the Göta Älv river mound – the river cutting through the city – the harbour is a completely artificial construction built on what 150 years ago was a shallow water reed landscape with a rich bird biotope (Öhman, 2004: 23; Karlsson, 1955: 2–4). The harbour’s two southeastern piers were constructed in the beginning of the 20th century, in the early heyday of the city’s modern harbour industry, which expanded with Kvillepiren in the post-war period. In the mid-1990s, the free port lost its intended function when Sweden joined the European Union and its common market (Öhman, 2004: 25). With the end of the free port era, as well as the continuous decline of the shipyard industry around it, much of Kvillepiren soon fell into disuse.

During this period, as Kvillepiren’s asphalt and steel began their slow process of decay, a set of early succession pioneer plants expanded at the pier’s end and surrounding edges (Frid, 2015: 30). In time, this organic constellation would provide an intriguing example of how diverse temporalities of urban natures interact and conflict during post-industrial decay and regeneration processes. In the early 2000s, the municipality of Gothenburg decided to redevelop the area into a dense, residential neighbourhood. Interestingly, this project was set to happen over time, through the municipality vying to adopt an experimental, so-called ‘successional conversion of space’ that put the temporal aspects of redevelopment in focus (Dahl et al., 2019: 7). The stipulated hope was that this would encourage new (human) interactions with the area, which the until-now privately run harbour had cut off from the surrounding city.

Local urban nature activists, however, were concerned that the spontaneous plant- and wildlife was threatened by municipal plans to redevelop the area. ⁷ In the summer of 2017, while preparations for redevelopment were well under way, a multitude of ruderal plant species were still thriving in scattered rubble piles and gravelled grounds, and tall reeds were lining the water edges alongside a mélange of white willows (Salix alba), great sallows (Salix caprea) and silver birch trees (Betula pendula). Furthermore, these pioneer plants were not alone in appropriating the pier. Various bird species sheltered in the reeds, and rabbit burrows could be spotted in the rubble piles. Though the area was fenced off from the public, laypeople had still managed to find ways to get in. On fair summer days, people picnicked on the old docks or used makeshift fire pits made from abandoned concrete slabs.

In designing for the area’s ‘successional conversion’, the municipality made a clear allusion to these ‘organic’ temporalities and informal, spontaneous appropriations of urban space. Yet, in many ways this was a shallow mimicking of a plural, more-than-human city, and the temporalities that confronted the initial visons of the planners are testament to this. For one, the old industrial grounds of the pier contained high levels of arsenic that undermined the associated housing plans; arsenic being, in one planner’s words, ‘not very compatible with a [children’s] playground!’. ⁸ The levels were especially high in the areas with dense spontaneous vegetation, as these sites had functioned as informal ‘dumping grounds’ for adjacent industries for decades. ⁹ Consequently, as it could take thousands of years for arsenic to naturally degrade in the soil, the municipal planning office had to bend to the chemical temporalities of toxic decay and chose to turn the spontaneous plant life at the end of the pier into a landscaped park, rather than integrate it into the dense neighbourhood projected in the other parts of Kvillepiren. As one planner heading the area’s redevelopment put it: ¹⁰

The idea is that we will try to maintain as much of the existing vegetation as possible […] The problem is that the grounds are polluted, so there’s kind of an antagonism in that to be able to open up the area we need to, eh…The traditional way is to just remove everything and put in new soil. Again, that costs tons of money and then you lose just that vegetation that is [already] there…But we have been working with the [municipal] environmental office to try to find a balance there and now I think we’ll be able to keep most of the trees, at least …

Despite the planner purporting to espouse a ‘biodiverse’ and ‘green’ approach, the long-term intentions and realisation of the park were less certain. When looking at past decades’ plans and reports of Frihamnen’s redevelopment, what becomes clear is that the focus on the pier has shifted significantly. In the early 2000s, Kvillepiren had been projected as part of a public park – spanning all three piers with an eco-duct connecting them to larger green areas on the northern riverbank (Dahl et al., 2019; Höstmad, 2013). However, by the mid-2010s, this ambitious park and green infrastructure had been replaced by plans for dense residential blocks and the less nature-focused concept of an allmötesplats (a ‘meeting place for all’). Now green space was only relegated to the tip of Kvillepiren (largely thanks to its polluted soil –Dahl et al., 2019: 49). ¹¹ The official language reflects this side-lining of spontaneous urban nature: the ligneous collectives were sometimes referred to as ‘birch weeds’ (björksly; Frid, 2015: 30), other times as an imprecise ‘post-industrial biotope’ (Älvstaden, 2016: 10), and an in-depth 2019 report devotes only half a page to the so-called ‘urban ecologies’ (urbana ekologier), for which the term and its proposed biodiversity are never defined (Dahl et al., 2019: 49).

In the process of turning decay into development, much of the original, spontaneous vegetation would also be replaced by a ‘new structure of trees, shrubs and herbs’ (le balto & Mareld, 2016) – meaning, easier-to-control specimens and temporalities. In 2017, the ‘post-industrial biotope’ of weed trees still played an important role – as an aesthetic backdrop with functional qualities – in the successional conversion of the area. However, in a similar manner to geographer Renate Sander-Regier’s (2009: 68) reflection on plant agency in private gardens, though the weed tree ‘initially serves a desirable purpose … with time and incessant activity, the plant becomes invasive and undesirable – another weed’. Furthermore, since 2011 there had been no mention of the endangered aquatic plant knölnate (Potamogeton trichoides), or ‘hairlike pondweed’, which in Sweden exists only in Gothenburg (SBK, 2011: 48). It had been recorded near the northwestern bank of the pier for over 100 years – making do in the sweet water mouth and adjoining stream throughout the harbour’s development and decay. This omission of both spontaneous ecologies and endangered species indicates that the vegetation of the pier was being appreciated not for its own qualities and demands but because it formed part of a municipal vision for building a green and dense city – void of decay, waste and any diverging other-than-human temporalities.

Agonistic temporalities of other-than-human persistence in Turin and Gothenburg

Our examples show that when urban nature temporalities are conceptualised not just as single, linear and fundamentally anthropocentric events but as continuous, sprawling processes – be they spontaneous, ‘decaying’ or otherwise – they emerge as crucial sites of confrontation for more-than-human urban politics. What crystallises from this comparative foray of post-industrial green space regeneration is a novel understanding of how alternative, agonistic temporalities come to matter in redirecting municipal action and exposing hegemonic urban nature imaginaries. Though hardly embraced by the municipal authorities in our respective field sites, we propose that how these temporalities clash and coalesce is essential to cultivating a more agonistic and pluralistic politics of the more-than-human city.

For one, agonistic temporalities emerge when interrogating the legacy and durability of contaminants from the historical mismanagements of solid waste of the industrial harbour in the Göta Älv and the steel plants of the automotive industry along the Stura. During Kvillepiren’s redevelopment from a closed-off wasteland to a future sought-after inner-city neighbourhood, facile narratives of linear progress had been unsettled through the temporal persistence of the long-term toxicity of inorganic degradation. The time (and money) it would take to de-toxify the soil from arsenic have forced a significant change to the exploitation plans of the area – from residential neighbourhood to urban park. At the same time, in the ‘chemical landscape’ of old waste and industrial matter at the Arrivore Park, past and present informal agricultural uses along the riverbanks challenge municipal guidelines on what formally should be too polluted a ground to cultivate. Consequently, even in officially condoned land uses, such as the allotment, temporal confrontations remain. As the old gardener conveyed, here the soil is full of matter, displaying temporalities of decay that ignore notions of agricultural decomposition and question the area’s official designation as cultivable, ‘productive’ land. Through these agonistic temporalities of material decay, we detect how municipalities rely on the labour of humans and plants alike (Ernwein et al., 2021) to render polluted urban sites ‘harmless’ or integrate them into the official fabric of the city (de Waal and de Wit, 2011): either by creating an urban park, like in Kvillepiren, or by establishing municipal allotments as in Arrivore Park.

Secondly, this toxic and material waste points to a material excess that often intermingles with, if not encourages, ‘unplanned’ urban natures (Pavoni and D’Alba, 2024). In their work on Satoyama forests in Japan – where the coordination of temporal rhythms of plants, people and matter is key to fostering liveable multispecies worlds – Tsing and artist-theorist Elaine Gan stress how temporalities are instrumental in understanding how things hold together more-than-human interdependencies (Gan and Tsing, 2018). In Turin and Gothenburg, the excess of toxic matter and other objects, along with many plants’ tenacious character, underscores the temporal agonism created between the more-than-human trajectories of informal and formal gardens, spontaneous vegetation and urban planning and the breakdown of waste in the urban environment. This temporal agonism is inherently context specific and unveils the problematics when municipal workers and laypeople mistakenly interpret the ‘things that hold’ as waste or weeds within the transformation of green spaces. Here, agonistic temporalities highlight, and subsequently question, what is perceived as legitimate use of urban space, and who (human and other-than-human alike) is perceived as a legitimate user. They point to how temporalities of other-than-human beings and matter rub against human temporalities to the extent that they must be recognised, and accommodated for, by municipal planning professionals, individual urban dwellers and urban nature theorists.

Thirdly, the capacity for toxic and inorganic temporalities to influence urban planning strategies to involve the ‘detoxifying’ labour of plants also makes another kind of agonistic temporality visible: those planty temporalities that persist despite the hegemony of a ‘specific idealisation of time’ (Bastian, 2009: 101) in urban planning. As our studies in Gothenburg and Turin reveal, the persistence of spontaneous or informal natures paves the way for a multitude of plants to thrive alongside processes of urban decay and abandonment. In a simultaneously theoretical, empirical and political confrontation, they expose what geographer Robert Dodgshon (1999: 615) calls the ‘principle of persistence’, how complex pasts ‘carryover from one moment to the next’ to influence the future. In the case of our post-industrial urban landscapes, persistence ushers ‘disjunctured’ ecological and industrial pasts into the present to interfere with future urban planning.

The plants at Kvillepiren and Arrivore Park persist because of their ‘insurgent’ biological characteristics (Argüelles and March, 2022: 55) – their capacity for rapid growth, phenotypic plasticity and prolific seed production and dispersal, their tolerance to disturbance and contaminated soils and waters and their adaptability to harsh urban conditions. This persistence – either by ‘weed trees’ and pondweed at Kvillepiren or in the intermingling of native plants and non-native ‘saboteurs’ in Arrivore Park – exposes biological processes of decay and regeneration that are so incompatible with municipal visions that they are simply ignored or, if this is not possible, are incorporated as ‘managed’ urban ecologies to fit certain municipal imaginaries. Geographer Robert Francis (2018: 153) calls such managed ecologies ‘ecological simulacra’; that is, ‘a stylised representation of an ecosystem that people can utilise while bypassing the need to acknowledge or interact with other species entirely’. In the simulacra of Kvillepiren and Arrivore Park, spontaneous vegetal growth and decline are brushed over by municipal plans to accommodate more linear notions of progress – much in line with the anthropocentric, ‘hegemonic consensus’ (Mouffe, 2007: 5) of how both time and natures are to be perceived in the city. Nevertheless, if one looks closer, the permanence of the pondweed or the tenacity of the Chinese mugwort in the face of both post-industrial decay and redevelopment, exemplifies how the imprint of a more-than-human urban politics is borne out of unassuming, temporal persistence.

Conclusion

The stories of decaying materialities and persistent plants illustrate several ways that diverging, other-than-human temporalities may come to matter in the planning of urban space. They highlight how their very spatio-temporal articulation may be negated, ignored or repurposed to maintain a dominant urban planning ideal and thereby risks being made invisible or written out of current political visions of the city. In this article, we point to a path out of this hegemonic bind, showing how complex temporal confrontations of organic lives and inorganic matter are not just possible but, to paraphrase Mouffe, necessary for a truly democratic imagining and making of more-than-human cities. To recognise other-than-human temporalities in urban decay or redevelopment, we argue, is not only to recognise the plurality of urban temporalities but also to underpin the means by which these rhythms and trajectories are held together in agonistic tension when municipal interests seek to change the urban fabric. Kvillepiren and Arrivore Park expose potential pitfalls in the antagonistic post-industrial imagining of a simultaneously ‘green’ and ‘dense’, ‘ordered’ and ‘biodiverse’ urban landscape. This in turn queries how vegetal life is purported by each municipality, and how it mirrors the ways that urban natures are defined in official municipal narratives.

To conclude, theorising urban natures through the lens of agonistic temporalities shows how municipalities favour shallow, speculative future commitments to biodiversity creation rather than engaging with the spontaneous, thriving natures that are already present. On the one hand, the permanence of toxic and other waste matter secures the existence of urban natures at the field sites themselves, as there is little else that the grounds may be used for. On the other hand, the specifics of these urban natures, in terms of species constellations or biodiversity, remain obfuscated. This is exemplified by the ways that endangered and non-native species are made invisible by either excluding them completely (by intention or oversight) or integrating them as undefined ‘urban ecologies’ in the official planning strategies' narratives. Such simulacra of unspecified, ‘unproblematic’ and controllable ecologies show how urban natures are filtered through various social, political, aesthetic and ecological values of the different redevelopment programmes. Adopting an agonistic temporal approach uncovers the cracks in these imaginations by diversifying how we conceive of urban natures, working towards a truly more-than-human politics of the city.