This painting seeks to synthesize our existence on the road of life. A tortuous, dangerous path. On this road, each of us carries our own baggage. Our life experience. In the distance, green fields present us with the illusion of hope as we tread our paths. At the edge of this road, an unidentified figure observes us. At the slightest sign, he, the executioner, reaps a living being. It is inevitable. I borrowed this figure from Goya. In the clouds, our philosophical effort to give ourselves meaning. It is in shades of gray, symbolizing our thoughts written on white sheets. But it is a cloud. We cannot grasp it, and our thoughts do not look at us. Reason only reflects..
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