In my dream morning, there is no alarm clock. There is no rush and no feeling that you need to run somewhere. It starts with the fact that it is already light outside, and it is still warm under the blanket. The first thing I smell is the smell of freshly brewed coffee, which I always make in a Turk. It is not about caffeine, but about the process itself: slow, with a quiet gurgle, with the moment when the foam rises and I remove it with a spoon so that the coffee is even softer.

This morning, I open the window, letting in fresh air, and put a small bouquet on the windowsill. Sometimes it is just a eucalyptus branch, sometimes tulips. I always believe that flowers change the mood of the room.

Breakfast in the dream morning is simple: toast with avocado or honey, and a plate of strawberries. No screens, no news. Instead, there's music. Sometimes it's jazz, sometimes old French songs.

And the most important thing is the feeling that everything is ahead. That I can live this day the way I want.