A young woman, same face preserved, lit by a harsh on-camera flash from a thrift-store film camera. Her hair is loosely pinned, stray strands shadowing her eyes. She gives a knowing half-smirk. She’s wearing a charcoal cardigan with texture. Behind her: a cluttered wall of handwritten notes and torn film stills. The shot feels like a raw indie-movie still — grain-heavy, imperfect, intentional.