There are mornings when the world feels too loud, and I find myself craving a kind of silence that only a familiar ritual can bring. This past Sunday was one such morning. The rain was tapping gently against the window, and the air in my small apartment was thick with the scent of jasmine tea. I reached for my phone, not to scroll through the endless noise of social media, but to open a note I had been keeping. It was a list of places I wanted to visit, spaces that promised a certain kind of tranquility. At the top of that list, underlined twice in my mind, was a…