The spoon clinks at 10am

It's the hour when the kitchen light gets impatient and the coffee's already gone. Empty room, dripping tap, and I catch myself listening to a silence that's just a little too well-behaved. Mornings make a translator think about the words that never made it into a document — the ones that stayed in the booth, floating between two languages. Strange, how a quiet Saturday can feel louder than a plenary session ever did.