One Tram. Five Languages. No Shared Script.

I was on a tram recently listening to a small orchestra of languages and had two reactions at once.

The first was ordinary: this is what cities do now. Movement, exchange, tourism, work, study, relocation. Fine. Normal.

The second was harder: a city can host many languages and still lack a shared plan for how all these people are meant to live together. That is where the strain begins.

I am not nostalgic for purity or monotony. I am nostalgic for coherence. Public space works best when the rules are widely understood, the institutions are trusted and the host culture is confident enough to remain visible rather than apologetic.

Difference can live inside that. It cannot replace it.