Silence breaks the world into drops of tea. Each sip reveals a coast, a line upon the cup’s rim. Islands rise from steam, a border fading into memory. And time becomes a compass with no needle nor sail. The forgotten cup traces routes that no longer exist. Continents shift in silence while the liquid breathes. On the edge, a map walks distant cities, absent sailors. Then it cools, and the earth reorders itself in a new silence.