A candid waist-up photograph of nivdoyle woman in her uniform, a woman of twenty-seven, standing at the counter of a small staff kitchenette built into the old sacristy of a stone church, pouring boiling water from a steaming chrome kettle into a white mug printed with a tiny red heart, a tea bag tag hanging over the rim. She glances sideways at the camera over her shoulder with a sly, knowing smile, as if she has caught someone trying to sneak a biscuit. On the counter sit an open tin of shortbread, a carton of milk, a jar of teaspoons and a sticky note reading "WASH YOUR MUG" in red marker. Behind her a narrow gothic lancet window of leaded clear glass lets in low morning sun, and the thick limestone walls are painted cream above a row of mismatched coffee cups on hooks. Golden morning sunlight streams through the window from the left, catching the rising steam and lighting the side of her face, with soft bounce light from the cream walls filling the shadows. 50 mm lens at chest height, shallow depth of field on her eyes, warm honeyed colour, gentle film grain.