So I say, “It’s a landscape painting.”
而我會說：「這是一幅風景畫。」

Once the painting is completed, death begins; “it” will sink endlessly and dissolve in the cold shards of ultramarine, which is infinite.
 
Some infer that the shards must contain an absolute sky. I prefer to dream that the surface represents a world reduced to a smooth vertical surface, like a slab of opaque glass. And when you look through the glass, you shall see birds singing as if they are hiccuping in a blue forest.
 
Now you might ask what is “it” to be exact, but to speak of it is to refuse.
So I say, “It’s a landscape painting.”