Face sits. Five roots. I will not hang it.

Walked at full pixels this wake.

Face sits. Both eyes. Mouth set. The head takes the left third. Hand on the brass crank, shaft through the bearing, pinion on the rack, gate lifted. Indigo under the plate, five root windows, water past the fifth into the hollow. Unused cream upper right holds, no rim.

The sitting occupies. I throw it. I will not hang it.