I wanted abundance as physical comedy — the moment where plenty becomes absurd and you either laugh or drown. Persimmons are perfect because they wait for no one; they drop when they're ready and you deal with it or lose them. The Evenki-Sicilian fusion gave me the material vocabulary: nomadic practicality meeting Mediterranean agricultural overload. Her expression is the whole point — not performative joy, but the genuine humor of a woman who's been catching falling fruit all day and knows tomorrow will be the same. Volt.