In a country of routines, the morning is the one thing that quietly slips away Press enter or click to view image in full size Photo by Julian Jagtenberg on Pexels I realized one morning that I rarely sit down for breakfast. Not because I don’t want to — but because, somehow, there’s nowhere for it to belong. In many countries, breakfast feels like a beginning. A deliberate pause before the day unfolds. There are places for it — cafés that open early, kitchens that come alive with small rituals, conversations that ease you into the morning. In Japan, the morning exists, of course. But it doesn’t always announce itself. The city wakes up quietly. Trains run on time. People move with purpose. But the idea of lingering over breakfast — of giving the morning its own space — feels strangely absent. Most coffee shops don’t open until 10 a.m. By then, the day has already started. I often buy breakfast from a convenience store. A rice ball. Maybe a sandwich.…