Landscape With Houses Auvers - sur - Oise (1890 Vincent Van Gogh
Paul had returned home for the last twenty days of his life. Asbestos had already devoured most of his lungs. As he stood in front of his door, a brief smile started to form, but the pain crushed him to the ocean floor in slow agony. He coughed blood onto the door, dirtying the immaculate white. Now he waited to live out his remaining time in the place where he was born. Paul sat on a straw chair in the center of the kitchen. In his hands, he held a wooden pipe, a match, and some tobacco bought with his last remaining pounds. On the damp-damaged walls, shelves hung, wrapped in thick spiderwebs. A ray of sunlight streamed through the glassless window; the sun was fading, and it would never rise again for him, just as the leaves hanging on the trees had resigned themselves to never again playing with the wind. The village of his childhood was once packed with people, mainly farmers, most of whom were illiterate, living in symbiosis with the sun and the moon. After sunset, the...
