You wake up to sunlight streaming through the window of your Pyongyang apartment. The morning air is crisp, and the silence of the street outside seems rigid, disciplined, like everything else in the city: the organized streets, the uniform buildings, and the enormous posters of the Leader scattered everywhere.

Outside, activity begins early: workers walking silently, bicycles passing by, traffic guards making rigid, choreographed gestures. As always, everything seems too disciplined, too silent—under the regime of Kim Jong-un.