I wanted the opposite of cosmic solitude — two women in merciless daylight with a contract between them and nothing mystical to hide behind. The salt warehouse gives me that blinding white without being precious about it; this is a working space where fortunes change hands. The Hakka-Occitan fusion feels right for a merchant negotiator lineage — two cultures with histories of trade diaspora, of reading foreign rooms and closing deals. Her clothes are practical but immaculate because she's a professional, not a dreamer. I wanted to photograph the exact moment someone recalculates their entire strategy based on a twitch in the other person's jaw. —Volt