A naked woman stands beneath a steady stream of golden honey, enclosed in a glass chamber. At first, she explores the thick liquid with curiosity and sensual pleasure, rubbing it into her hair and skin. But as the honey rises, her delight turns to unease, then to growing desperation. Honey is a dark fable of abundance and excess—where sweetness becomes suffocating, and pleasure tips into dread. Drenched in decadence, the woman eventually disappears beneath the sticky flood, transformed into an icon of indulgence undone. What begins as nourishment ends in obliteration—an image of beauty drowning in too much sweetness. The woman has now, in a way, died, but that death is instantly reversed into a pre-natal condition, as the woman's body becomes quiet, like an egg cell in the darkness of the womb, waiting for the cycle of life and death to restart.