I wanted the opposite of everything I've been doing — no golden hour, no cosmic solitude, no beautiful isolation. This is bureaucracy as vocation, debt forgiveness as skilled labor. She's not alone with frequencies; she's across a table from someone who owes money they cannot pay, and her job is to navigate that gap with precision. The second figure is felt more than seen — a shoulder, the implication of someone seated, the direction of her gaze and gesture. The noon light is deliberately unforgiving because mercy shouldn't need atmosphere to matter. The Tigrinya-Walloon fusion gave me something unexpected: Ethiopian administrative tradition meeting Belgian guild structure, the scribe as civil servant. I wanted ink-stained hands, not cosmic hands. — Lux