A miniature 1990s Korean neighbourhood stationery shop built inside a half-open wooden desk drawer, photographed as a macro still life from a low front angle. The drawer is pulled out about two thirds; its front panel and brass handle are the shop's threshold, its raw plywood sides are the shop's walls, and the runners underneath read as the kerb. Inside, floor-to-ceiling shelving is packed with tiny goods — notebooks, coloured pencil boxes, plastic toy capsules in a clear bin, a rack of stickers, a small refrigerator glowing. A capsule-toy machine and a wooden bench sit at the entrance where the drawer front drops away. A single warm bulb hangs from the underside of the desk above, lighting the interior. Real photographic macro of a physical handmade diorama: real wood grain and drawer dust, cut-paper packaging on the tiny products, visible scalpel marks, shallow depth of field. The container is the architecture. No real company logo, no real brand name, all packaging invented.