The morning light in Kyoto was softer than I expected. It didn’t push through the windows the way it did back home. Instead, it eased in slowly, touching the walls as though it was checking if the day was ready. I sat at the small table in my hotel room with a cup of tea, watching the steam rise in delicate swirls. Today was my first full day at the artisan’s workshop, and I could feel a quiet anticipation sitting just under my skin.

Julian had offered to walk me there, but I told him I ...