I always thought that the kitchen was about noise, about pans, about the smell of food. But then I realized: I like the kitchen most when it's quiet.
When everyone is still asleep, I can walk barefoot, touch the cold countertop and brew my coffee so slowly, as if time has stretched out.
It's easy to be yourself in the kitchen. There are no mirrors, no strangers' glances - just you and the sound of boiling water.
Sometimes I sit on a chair, hug my knees and think about something of my own. Sometimes, I don't even cook anything - I just stand by the window and watch the morning light up.
I love it when the refrigerator hums quietly - it's my sign that the world doesn't demand anything from me yet.
The kitchen is a place for small honesties. Here I know what I really want: not salads and perfect toast, but just five more minutes of peace.
Once I came up with the idea that happiness is not breakfast in bed, but coffee on the edge of the kitchen table, when you decide when to get up.
Many people say that the kitchen is the heart of the home. I agree, but not because of the food. But because here you can be honest.
I like to leave full cups and unfinished tea here. Let the reminder that not everything needs to be finished on time remain here.
Someday I will invite someone to share this silence with me. But for now, I like to make coffee for myself and hear the night burning out outside the window.
My quiet kitchen is my little island. And for now it is enough for me.