As if by chance, my friends and I always end up in the kitchen. And it doesn't matter where we meet - in an apartment, at a summer house, in a rented house. Even if there is a large living room with sofas, in the end everyone gathers where there is a kettle, tiles and the smell of coffee ☕️

This is some kind of magic of the kitchen. It is there that stories are told that have long been waiting for their time. It is there that they say not what needs to be said, but what they really want to say. Without formality, without tension, without unnecessary witnesses. Just between us.
And what is interesting - later you remember exactly such nights, and not loud parties. Because real conversations live in kitchens.