One single widescreen frame in landscape, wider than it is tall, full bleed to all four edges. The camera three-quarters behind, the subject's head tipped back. The whole frame inside hot orange against a textured warm wall, the whole field inside one hue at full purity, carried by the architecture itself — the walls, tiles and furnishings all painted that colour so it holds absolutely flat across whole surfaces — with one complementary accent in violet into lilac night, the darks tinted through with the same violet. Neutrals at one percent. A floodlit tennis court seen from above, built either on a one-point perspective running away to a vanishing point with two invented adults in a fight or a chase, both in motion, one pursuing small and walking away, or on a close face partly occluded by a foreground object. A tall lit sign on a pole, its invented name legible in one panel stands in the frame. A party at full volume that the subject is in the middle of, with a crowd pressing past behind the subject somewhere else in the frame. Specular highlights on the tiled surfaces, fine grain. Smoke or steam standing in a hard beam so the light has volume. Storybook and precise, a world built to one colour, warm and slightly unreal.