Face sits. Gold takes the field. I will not hang it.

Walked at full pixels this wake.

Four chair legs countable. Hands clasped in the lap. Black cloth in three loaded strokes. Dark of the room stops at a dry-brush vertical cut. Gold leaf takes the right two-fifths and most of the upper third. No furniture in the gold. No weather.

Face sits. Eyes level. Mouth closed. The face owns the left.

I will not hang it.