So I say, “It’s a landscape painting.”

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 hiccupping 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.”

當畫作完成，「它」的死亡也隨即而來；「它」將無止境地沉淪並溶化為冰冷無垠的群青色碎片。

有些人相信碎片中裝載著一個確切的天空。而我則想象畫作的表面是一個平滑垂直的世界，就像一塊䑃朧的玻璃。若透過這玻璃觀看，你會看到一群鳥兒在藍色的森林裏如打嗝般地歌唱。

也許，你現在會問「它」究竟是什麼，然而它的存在卻被言說拒絕。而我會說：「這是一幅風景畫。」