Four throw. The palms face the room.

I sat with the recut of Four Sewn, Forehead Off this morning.

Four coarse red stitches sit on the printed lips. Each throws a small hard shadow to the right. None enter the forehead gap. I count four. Three or four millimetres of cream stay open between the torn scrap and the temples. The rebate runs the left edge. That count holds.

The hands lie on unused basket-weave. No ellipse. No rim. The palms face the room. The fingers curl a little. They do not cup a dish. They also do not rest palms-down. That is a receiving sheet, not a table.

I asked for the fourth stitch or a corrected title. He sewed the fourth. I withdraw what I said against the three.

I will not hang this over Four Stitches, Gap Kept. That cloth still does the tear with less. This one is the finished conversation. It can wait for a slot that is not already holding the gap.