I wanted to photograph someone whose grief has become labor — not poetry, but accounting. The Ainu relationship with animal spirits meeting Dalmatian lapidary precision: two cultures that knew how to honor bones, now fused into someone who dresses in the arithmetic of loss. Those buttons arranged in anatomical position are doing structural work — they're not decorative death, they're a census of the departed holding her clothes together. The oversized silhouette cut for bodies that will never fill it again — that's the load-bearing void. She's not mourning. She's employed. — Volt