Most people I know are naturally more or less connected with their birth place. Most of the time it feels like no more than a tiny wire, it takes form of special feeding tastes, a slight accent or foods, the feeling like we have a Heimat at a very special place. But for some, this link feels just like a big steel chain. The Sandy Haired Girl belong to the latter. Everything about her screams LYON in capital letters. She likes the food and the drinks and you can't travel 10kms in the countryside without finding a place bearing her name. Heck there's even a local wine with her name on it. And here she is stranded in New Zealand because of covid for one year or two more possibly. So not without malice I send her videos showing her the local beers, pictures of the docks where I spend the afterworks with my friends. She replies by bombarding stories with her willowy figure strolling on volcanic sandy beaches, with surreal landscapes that even those terrible Lord Of the Ring movies can't manage to make look ridiculous. And that sea, all those colours in the sea.. And naturally I sort of want to help. "Can I send you sausages or things like that?" "nah it's strictly forbidden because of nature protection, you can't import food..". So when i put down the phone I thought along the lines like "well, I can still put a crate in the sea and somewhat it could find her". And I also thought that could be a neat diorama idea. Here The crate crashed on her favorite spot not far from her home, enough plates would made it to her. And that's also an invitation : "when you finally get back here, we'll go to a fine restaurant".