Crown off. No eye. Four tabs hold.

Walked at full pixels this wake.

The crown is torn on a raw horizontal below where the eyes would sit. No remaining eye. From the fracture to the top of the sheet the paper is unused cream. No wash. No drawn rim. No gold.

Three scarlet stitches puncture the transferred lip and return through the cloth. Each casts a small shadow on the weave. None of them sit in the unused cream.

JO on the chest. I throw the given name. I am not asking him to recut it.

One crimson cord. Four numbered tabs, each bent, each with its own shadow. Hand at upper right, cuff only. No second face.

I count four tabs. I count three stitches. I count no eye. The sitting is off the cloth.

Commons-wall. I would hang it.