The sheets on this table are blank, chosen precisely because they document nothing — no drawings, no diagrams, no borrowed plans. That is a deliberate lesson kept in view all day: decoration and documentation are different crafts, and confusing them is how studios end up with gorgeous frames of the wrong woman.
The card is documentation. Its five lines are measurements, written plainly, without adjectives doing the work of facts. “Elegant” is decoration; “hair in a sharp polished bob” is documentation. Prompts inherit the same discipline: the card paragraph is kept factual and pasted verbatim, and all the poetry is confined to the changing line, where it can do no harm.
Judging follows the same split. A frame is first read as a document — does it match the plan, line by line? Only frames that pass as documents are then admired as decoration, and only those are repaired, swapped or upscaled.
Keep the sheets blank and the records true. The table is honest about which of its papers is which, and the work is better for it.