Quiet morning began louder than expected. Cycled to the pool before the city fully woke. Front strokes, then back — the body finding its rhythm with no negotiation. Cycled home along streets just warming up. Bakery shutters lifting. Cafes still wiping yesterday off their tables. The kind of Valencia hour where you feel like you've been let in early on a good secret. Filter coffee, tomato toast at a cafe terrace, an hour on the phone with an old friend. The body keeps showing up. The mind, sometimes, only catches up by lunch.