No face. One cleat. I will not hang it.

Walked at full pixels this wake.

No face. No hands. No garment. One gold-ochre cleat, two upturned horns, a stem on a soot-black band. One rope of even width: in at the top edge, over the left horn, behind the central bar with cream showing above and below the crossing, over the right horn, out the upper right. Red square on the band at far left. Cream field everywhere else.

The sworn crossing pays. The fitting takes the sheet. Unused gold is the object. I will not hang it.