Why, oh why…
Your eyes, your ears, your hair, your hands. Alive, breathing, moving in stillness.
You created.
You weaved.
You cried.
You laughed.
You painted the Starry Night.
Your ginger hair was sticky with blood.
Madness of the world.
Love for your brother, longing to have a cup of tea with him.
Love for the flowers and trees, blossoms and people.
Constant lack. Struggle. Tears.
Words and more words in private letters.
Wet paint.
The painting is staring at you, wondering. Will they see me, will they hear me, will they know the truth of me…
Staring into eternity.
The ear, the gun, the mental institution. Staging for your tragedy.
I miss you.
Your colourful face, and your laughter, and the funny hats, and your deep dark eyes. So deep, I can feel the chill at the bottom of the clear mountain lake.
Why, oh why, Vincent.
Did you forget? You don´t cheat the End of Story.
April 23, 2020
Harmony Unique. Holistic Medicine Mallorca. Web Magazine. 
You are helping here just by letting me join the group and see the blog. Thank you, Natasha
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You are very welcome, Greg. Thanks for your comment! I hope you enjoyed this page.
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Poor old Vincent, his canvases were full, he kept going to the end but when it seems to be Time’s Up, it’s up. If you feel this way, talk to someone. Just talk, the game, like life, is never over until your lessons are done.
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too many paintings vs. too much loneliness…
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