Explaining something that seems obvious to you
There are moments when you speak about something that feels simple, almost normal to you.
You choose your words carefully, you think you are being precise — and yet you notice, little by little, that it does not land.
Not because the others are inattentive.
Not because they are incapable.
But because what feels obvious to you was built slowly, over time, through experience, habit, context — things that were never said aloud.
Often, you realise this too late.
In the middle of a sentence.
In the silence that follows.
In the polite nod that does not mean understanding.
This table is about those moments.
Not to practise explaining better.
Not to correct language, logic, or structure.
But to notice what actually happens when clarity exists for one person and not yet for another.
You bring situations you remember:
a meeting, a conversation, a task, a decision —
a moment where they suddenly felt out of sync.
Others listen.
They recognise the pause, the slight tension, the feeling of having gone too fast or assumed too much.
There is no pressure to explain well here.
No need to finish the thought.
Sometimes stopping is enough.