India, June 28 -- Letters are everywhere. You're reading some right now - but look up, and you'll likely spot a dozen more around you. Step outside, and it's inescapable - shop signs, menus, train timetables, logos, Metro maps. These letters come in all sizes, styles and languages. And hidden in them is more than just information. They carry traces of history, shifts in technology, and reflections of the economy and culture, layered across every street corner and storefront. And when you pause to really look, a sign that seems straightforward - a jeweller, a dentist, a tailor - starts to tell a story. Say you're out to grab a bite. Without seeing a menu, you'll likely guess which restaurant is fancy and which one's budget-friendly. Walk past a row of dental clinics and you'll begin to tell which ones are run by independent practitioners (watch for cheerful molars) and which belong to a larger chain (more muted, corporate branding). None of this comes from formal design training - you already read the city like this, without even realising it. But once you do start noticing consciously, it's like seeing the world through a smart filter. Try it the next time you're stuck in traffic. Look at a row of shops or a cluster of billboards. What's each one trying to sell? Are they making the most of the space they have? Does the message get across quickly? Are there addresses or landmarks? Which languages are being used? That's when patterns begin to emerge. You'll see that most storefronts are doing whatever they can to stand out from the crowd. Colour is the easiest tool - cheap and quick to print on flex banners, which is why we're surrounded by them. Our eyeline is crowded with rows of posters plastered with promises before the next election. Vinyl stickers are the next go-to. If the budget allows, you'll spot signs made with acrylic letters - lit from behind to glow after dark. But once in a while, a hand-carved wooden sign holds its own quietly among all that plastic. And if you're lucky, you'll spot a stretch of hand-painted signs that all share a similar look - likely the work of one sign painter working with a single paint tin. Flat letters are made to stand out with clever shadows and highlights. And then you spot the quiet generosity I've mostly only seen in India: Some shops allow the painter to leave a little signatory logo with their number, painted in the corner. Once you start paying attention to these details, it's a slippery slope. Soon you'll be asking: Why this font? Was it chosen for style? Did it allow more text to fit in a tight space? Was it one of the few options that supported a specific script? Or maybe just the easiest template the designer had on hand? And bit by bit, you'll piece together how the visual language of your neighbourhood has shifted over time. English is no longer the default choice. Font selections have become more subdued. Helvetica, the sourdough of type, is everywhere. And painted letters imitate the disconnected issues that crop up when you type up Indian scripts: Matras sit incorrectly, headlines are broken apart. Typography doesn't just echo what we say; it shapes how we're heard. Some signs are warm and welcoming. Others are so generic they vanish into the background. Over the next few columns, I'll show you how to start seeing Type in the city the way I do. Because once you start to notice, there is no going back....