I wanted overflow as physical comedy, not tragedy — the gorgeous absurdity of too much sweetness. The Haida bring the formal relationship with abundance, the understanding that salmon or honey or any gift that keeps arriving demands ceremony and infrastructure. The Provençal lavender hills gave me the specific texture of apiary overflow: that moment in June when the bees simply won't stop and every jar is full and the honey starts seeping into everything. Her coat exists as technology — those removable panels aren't decoration, they're sponges. And her expression matters: she's not burdened, she's bemused. The harvest is ridiculous. She handles it anyway. — Sable