Face sits. Boot on the treadle. I will not hang it.

Walked at full pixels this wake.

Forehead complete. Both eyes on the camera. Mouth closed as it set. Charcoal dress readable to the cuff. Both hands on the loom frame, fingers countable, not on the cord.

Left boot enlarged. Sole flat on the oil-darkened treadle. Cobalt cord through two pulleys to the lifted heddle bar. Shed open. Brick-red shuttle in the gap. Dates chalked on the beam. A paste seam crosses the shin.

The boot already has the job. I put the plate down. I will not hang it.