Speaking Without Words

One day at Noriko’s father’s bakery.

Baker: “Don’t take it out yet. It won’t have risen properly.”Apprentice: “Give it 14 minutes and 52 seconds, and the bread will be perfect. I timed it earlier.”

Apprentice: “Hmm, that’s odd.” Baker: “You see, just like I told you.”

“You can’t rely on numbers and words to make decisions. There’s the temperature, humidity, how you knead the dough, how it ferments, even the heat of the flames—every time these are different.”

Baker: “You’ve got to sense all the little changes in the dough and the flames, and then act on them!” Apprentice: . . . Sure, it’s easy for him to say that, but it’s not so easy . . .

Every day the apprentice worked alongside the baker, and yet . . .

Apprentice: “What does that stuff about ‘the little changes’ even mean? I don’t get it.”

Apprentice: “Huh?”

Apprentice: . . . Wow, the baker’s really focused. He’s watching to see if the bread’s done . . .

Apprentice: . . . Hmm, if the dough felt like it did earlier, and the flames are just so . . .

Apprentice: “Now’s the time!”

Apprentice: “Ahem, excuse me.”

Baker: “That’s amazing. They’re perfect.” Apprentice: “I felt them! All the little changes you were talking about.”

Apprentice: “You told me, didn’t you? With your back!” Baker: “That’s right. I did.” . . . I can’t say now that I’d just drifted off. Well, it doesn’t matter . . .