Pão de leite at breakfast.

Packaged bread has to look like it came from a kitchen. Every frame puts the bag in shot, label forward, then surrounds it with the breakfast it belongs to: coffee caught mid-pour into an enamel mug, papaya with a spoon, butter melting on brioche toast, a glass of milk after school.

The tables are Brazilian and lived in: speckled terrazzo, a yellow formica top with chrome edges, a red and white checked cloth under a coffee thermos, an embroidered tablecloth at a grandmother's afternoon coffee, a cloth filter dripping in a farmhouse kitchen.

Hands come into the last frames. Several reach into the Sunday basket at once, two tear a milk roll open to show the crumb. The bag stays at the back of the table, where it would be in a real house.