When the storm comes from afar, it still shakes your house. You don’t have to be standing in the middle of the battlefield to feel the heat of the fight. You don’t have to be in the room where the deals are made to taste the bitterness of the decisions. You don’t have to see the pen in the hand of the one signing the paper to know that what they wrote is about to hit you where you live. My brothers and my sisters, storms are not polite enough to stop at borders. They don’t ask for visas, they don’t wait for your permission, they don’t care about your sovereignty. The winds of the market, the tides of trade, the waves of currency — they move across oceans, they sweep through continents, and when they move, they move with power. And if you’re not anchored, if you’re not ready, if you’re not strong enough to withstand it, they will shake your house until the pictures fall off the wall and the roof begins to leak.