I wanted the opposite of mystical solitude — the sweaty, unglamorous work of making people agree about dirt. The Cham-Asturian fusion gives me two cultures who understand tides and the slippery question of where land begins. The noon light is deliberate cruelty: no shadows to hide in, every stake visible, every face readable. The older surveyor beside her makes her competence legible — she's not performing for the camera, she's solving a problem that twenty people are waiting on. That raised palm is the whole image: authority earned through attention. — Volt