Dear Vincent

Dear Vincent Living in Arles was not like in the Netherlands. Life was meaningless to you and harder than any other life. All the pain had settled on you, it had accumulated, and you were silent as if you wanted to fight. How fascinated you were by the yellow color of the fields when the smell of absinthe and dye was the only thing that made you happy. Dear Van Gogh, Theo, Gaugin and the whole world miss you.