Free Test 01 – Reading

Urban green spaces, including parks, community gardens, greenways, and tree-lined streets, are increasingly recognized as essential features of cities. Once considered mere aesthetic enhancements, they are now regarded as powerful tools for improving public health. Urbanization has led to crowded living conditions, long commutes, and reduced access to natural environments. Green spaces offer a counterbalance to these pressures, providing places for rest, exercise, and social interaction. In many cities, residents describe public parks as their most valued community asset. The growing popularity of urban greenery has prompted researchers and policy-makers to analyze its tangible effects on well-being.
Studies show a strong link between proximity to green spaces and reduced stress. People who live near natural environments tend to have lower levels of cortisol, the hormone associated with psychological stress. These spaces often trigger positive emotional responses, such as calmness and joy, even during brief visits. For children, nature exposure has lasting impacts. Researchers found that early access to green surroundings improves cognitive development, memory retention, and emotional stability. Some schools have begun integrating outdoor classrooms and nature walks into the curriculum, helping students build both resilience and focus.
Physical health benefits are just as compelling. Spending time outdoors encourages movement: walking, cycling, jogging, and team sports become more accessible when greenery is present. A landmark study from the World Health Organization concluded that people who exercise in green areas experience lower blood pressure and heart rates than those exercising indoors. Additionally, trees and shrubs filter air pollutants such as nitrogen dioxide and fine particulate matter. In areas with more canopy cover, there are fewer cases of respiratory illnesses. Access to green spaces has even been linked to improved birth outcomes and lower mortality rates.
Urban parks also serve as hubs for community building. Residents who regularly visit parks are more likely to interact with neighbors and participate in local initiatives. In cities such as Melbourne, Vancouver, and Amsterdam, green spaces are linked to lower crime rates and improved perceptions of safety. When communities are engaged in maintaining these spaces—through gardening programs, cleanup drives, or mural projects—they feel ownership and pride. Such involvement strengthens neighborhood cohesion and encourages collaboration, often crossing cultural and socioeconomic divides.
Despite clear benefits, access to green spaces is unevenly distributed. Studies from London and New York reveal that affluent areas tend to have significantly more greenery than lower-income districts. This inequality exacerbates health disparities, as vulnerable populations may lack safe places to exercise or relax. Experts argue that equitable access should be treated as a public health priority. Urban planners are now designing inclusive strategies, such as creating pocket parks in densely built neighborhoods and transforming vacant lots into community gardens. Public consultation is key to ensuring that these developments align with local needs.
Recent innovations have introduced green infrastructure into unexpected spaces. Green roofs, living walls, and vegetated transit stops are now commonplace in eco-conscious cities. These installations offer a range of benefits: temperature regulation, stormwater management, and aesthetic appeal. They also attract biodiversity, including birds, bees, and butterflies, contributing to ecological stability. Architects and engineers work together to integrate nature seamlessly into urban designs, creating buildings that are not only functional but also restorative. Such efforts reflect a growing movement toward biophilic cities—urban environments that embrace the natural world.
However, experts caution against unintended consequences of greening initiatives. If not properly planned, new parks may trigger gentrification, raising property values and displacing existing residents. Furthermore, poorly maintained green areas can become neglected and unsafe, undermining their intended benefits. Effective implementation requires continuous management, funding, and community engagement. Ensuring accessibility for all age groups and physical abilities is another challenge. Inclusivity in design—such as wheelchair-accessible trails and multilingual signage—can help bridge these gaps.
Technology has begun to reshape how cities manage and interact with green zones. Satellite imaging and geographic data can monitor tree coverage and identify areas in need of intervention. Mobile apps allow residents to report maintenance issues or suggest improvements. Environmental sensors track air quality, temperature fluctuations, and noise levels in real time. These tools enable cities to become more responsive and adaptive. Digital platforms also empower citizens, who can organize greening projects or access educational resources about sustainability from their smartphones.
Urban green spaces also play a pivotal role in climate resilience. Vegetation absorbs carbon dioxide, mitigates heat island effects, and reduces flood risks through soil stabilization and water retention. Green corridors can serve as evacuation routes in emergencies or buffer zones against natural disasters. As climate change intensifies, integrating green infrastructure becomes not just a luxury, but a necessity. Governments that prioritize nature-based solutions are better equipped to protect their populations from environmental hazards and maintain liveability for future generations.

A
Architect Mia Dominguez’s bold vision to transform unused urban rooftops and abandoned high-rises into thriving agricultural spaces is revolutionizing how cities approach food production. Her experimental designs feature stacked growing units powered by hydroponic and aeroponic systems—using nutrient-rich water and mist, respectively, rather than soil. These “green towers” are more than technological marvels; they represent a shift in thinking about how cities can integrate nature into their steel and concrete frameworks. As global urban populations continue to swell and arable land becomes increasingly scarce, vertical farming offers a sustainable solution to feed urban dwellers with locally grown, pesticide-free produce. Dominguez believes this fusion of architecture and agriculture could alleviate several pressing issues: food insecurity, carbon emissions from long-distance food transport, and the psychological toll of urban isolation by reintroducing green space into people’s daily lives. Her pilot farms in Singapore, Bogotá, and Nairobi have shown encouraging results—yielding high outputs while reducing water usage by 90% and connecting urban communities through shared farming projects.

B
The seeds of vertical farming were sown long before Dominguez’s prototypes. In 1999, Columbia University professor Dickson Despommier outlined a futuristic idea where skyscrapers would double as self-contained ecosystems producing food year-round. That vision has evolved dramatically over two decades, spurred by innovations in smart agriculture and data-driven crop management. Modern vertical farms use controlled environments with precision sensors regulating humidity, light intensity, nutrient concentration, and even CO₂ levels. This fine-tuned monitoring ensures optimal conditions for crops like lettuce, basil, kale, and strawberries—many of which grow faster than in traditional fields. Because these farms are protected from weather changes and pests, pesticides are rarely needed. Water is recycled through closed-loop systems, further minimizing waste. However, critics point out that staple crops like wheat and maize remain impractical for vertical production due to space, cost, and technology constraints. Additionally, startup expenses and energy requirements pose challenges for scaling up vertical farms across all regions, particularly in economically strained urban zones.

C
Technological advances have played a key role in making vertical farming more viable. Robotics now handle seeding, monitoring, and harvesting, while artificial intelligence detects plant diseases before they spread. Cities experiencing extreme weather or food shortages increasingly see vertical farming as a potential buffer. In South Korea, the government sponsors high-tech vertical farms that supply fresh produce to hospitals and schools, aiming to reduce dependency on imported goods. In Dubai, climate-controlled vertical farms help reduce the heavy environmental toll of overseas food logistics. Urban planning agencies in Vancouver and Rotterdam now include vertical farming in their food security strategies. These initiatives aim not only to create food resilience, but also to shorten supply chains and reinforce community self-sufficiency. Demand for locally grown and sustainably sourced food is rising globally, especially among environmentally conscious consumers who prioritize ethical production. With urban population growth projected to rise dramatically, planners are keen to ensure cities can nourish themselves without overreaching into rural ecosystems.

D
Despite its promise, vertical farming has drawn scrutiny from environmentalists and civic groups. Though it reduces land and water use, vertical farms can be energy-intensive, particularly those reliant on artificial lighting, climate control systems, and electric water pumps. If these energy sources aren’t renewable, they may offset the environmental benefits. The conversion of existing buildings into agricultural spaces also raises concerns—what happens to tenants who once lived or operated businesses in these now-repurposed structures? The Sustainable City Institute, in a comprehensive urban planning study, warned that neglecting equity and accessibility could turn vertical farming into a privileged concept, rather than a public good. Co-author Professor Kayleigh Wu argues that social inclusion must be a foundational principle. Engaging communities in planning and management ensures that vertical farming serves diverse demographics and doesn't unintentionally push out marginalized groups. Wu calls for policy frameworks that balance innovation with justice, so urban farming doesn’t replicate the inequalities found in other city redevelopment projects.

E
One of the most exciting branches of vertical farming is aquaponics—a synergistic system combining aquaculture (raising fish) and hydroponics. In aquaponics, fish waste provides nutrients for plants, and the plants help filter and clean the water returned to the fish tanks. This closed-loop ecosystem can produce both protein and vegetables, making it particularly valuable in land-scarce urban regions. Cities like Hong Kong, Cape Town, and Nairobi have embraced aquaponics for community food programs. Aquaponics farms require constant monitoring but offer excellent educational opportunities. Children visiting these farms learn how organisms interact in sustainable environments, reinforcing lessons in ecology, biology, and environmental engineering. Moreover, aquaponics demonstrates how circular resource flows can reduce the environmental impact of traditional agriculture. While implementation is complex—requiring more infrastructure and expertise than standard hydroponic farms—it offers a uniquely multifaceted solution for feeding cities in holistic and environmentally responsible ways.

F
Vertical farming is not poised to replace conventional agriculture, but it’s increasingly seen as a vital complement—especially as climate disruptions worsen and farmland disappears under concrete. Heatwaves, floods, droughts, and invasive pests are destabilizing traditional food systems, driving governments and innovators to diversify crop strategies. The United Nations estimates that by 2050, over 70% of the world’s population will reside in cities. Without proactive measures, food insecurity could become widespread. Dominguez envisions future "agrihoods"—urban neighborhoods organized around local food production, where residents work, learn, and eat together through community farming networks. This model represents more than innovation—it speaks to resilience, cooperation, and reconnection with nature. However, long-term success will depend on integrating renewable energy, designing adaptable infrastructure, and fostering inclusive governance. As vertical farming continues to mature, it may reshape not just how cities grow food—but how cities grow.

There is a widespread belief that human nature is grounded in competition—that our instincts drive us to outperform, dominate, and gain advantage over others. From boardroom rivalries to international conflicts, these behaviors are often interpreted as manifestations of our primal urges. It’s common to suggest that cooperation and empathy are learned behaviors that mask a deeper, more aggressive drive. Even acts of generosity are frequently reduced to strategic moves intended to boost social status or gain reciprocal favors.
This interpretation has long permeated scientific and social thinking, especially following the rise of evolutionary psychology. The idea that traits like competitiveness and hostility developed as adaptations during our species’ struggle for survival is entrenched in works such as Robert Tristane’s influential 1982 book Survival Schematic, which portrays early human communities as ruthless environments where brute strength and cunning were rewarded. Tristane argues that the brain evolved to detect threats, secure resources, and manipulate social groups for self-benefit. His views became popular during the 1980s and 1990s, coinciding with an era of neoliberal economic theory and individualistic social values.
However, recent findings in neuroscience challenge this narrative. Empirical research suggests that the human brain is not primarily wired for competition, but rather for connection. The prefrontal cortex, often described as the seat of rational thought and decision-making, is highly active during collaborative problem-solving and empathetic communication. Mirror neurons, which fire both when a person performs an action and when they observe someone else performing it, reveal how deeply humans are neurologically attuned to the emotional states of others. Studies involving functional MRI scans demonstrate that witnessing kindness and fairness activates reward centers in the brain—suggesting that compassion is inherently pleasurable.
Further evidence comes from developmental neuroscience. Infants as young as six months exhibit preferences for cooperative behavior. In controlled experiments, babies consistently choose puppets that demonstrate helping behavior over those that act selfishly or aggressively. These tendencies seem biologically ingrained rather than culturally imposed. Dr. Amina Khouri, a developmental neuroscientist at the London Institute of Cognition, argues that social bonding is a fundamental survival mechanism for humans—particularly because of our prolonged childhood and reliance on caregivers. “Our biology doesn't prepare us for independence,” she explains. “Instead, we’re built for interdependence and mutual support.”
Anthropological research supports this view. Hunter-gatherer groups historically relied on cooperative norms to survive. In societies with limited access to food and shelter, sharing ensured group survival. There are numerous examples of small-scale communities emphasizing reciprocity, collective responsibility, and conflict avoidance. Brain scans of individuals in these societies show heightened activity in areas related to empathy and impulse control. Interestingly, increased urbanization and social isolation correlate with reduced activity in these same regions, alongside heightened stress responses. This indicates that modern environments may disrupt natural prosocial wiring.
Khouri suggests that the idea of a purely self-centered brain is misleading and likely reflects cultural projection more than biological fact. While competitive behavior can and does emerge—especially under conditions of scarcity or institutional pressure—it is not the default mode of the human brain. In fact, much of the brain’s architecture seems specialized for cooperation. Oxytocin, often dubbed the “bonding hormone,” surges during interactions involving trust and affection. Its effects reinforce patterns of loyalty and caregiving across species. Human beings, in particular, show unique neurological capacities for understanding other minds, planning mutual goals, and grieving communal losses.
So why do humans sometimes behave destructively and selfishly? Neuroscientists suggest that environmental factors—stress, trauma, social hierarchy—can suppress cooperative tendencies and amplify defensive ones. In high-pressure conditions, the brain shifts into survival mode, often prioritizing self-preservation over group welfare. Chronic exposure to stressors can rewire certain circuits, making individuals more prone to suspicion, aggression, or withdrawal. But these adaptations are reactive rather than intrinsic.
It is increasingly clear that human nature cannot be reduced to simplistic labels like selfish or altruistic. The brain is a dynamic system influenced by context, culture, and experience. While our neurological foundations lean toward social connection, those tendencies can be nurtured or undermined depending on the conditions we live in. As Dr. Khouri puts it, “Empathy is not a luxury—it’s a core part of who we are. Our challenge is to create environments that allow it to flourish.”