Untitled. I always wonder as I read that blank word what it's hiding. Untitled for aesthetic discovery? A whispered, "Don't let me lead you toward the purpose. Find your own path." Please. That's such a trite appeal to the postmodernist (mass-produced) fad it hardly bares referencing. So maybe you just had no offering. An Adam mute and illiterate tasked with the impossible feat of naming. (See? I give you the benefit of the doubt) A hundred species threading themselves toward you only to be "un-christened," made more generic now by unmet expectation than before. Or did you mean the proper noun? "Untitled:" an orphaned work with no surname nor kin. Do you mean to tell me a story of unfinished pursuits? The lack of name = lack of completion. Or perhaps you were just concerned with defining her differentness. "Don't pigeonhole this one," you say, "She defies categorization."