VAN GOGH ©
A mini story by Martha Cecilia Rivera.
Here we are: me, my brush, my palette. And my misery. All of them, and me, set off together on an intense mental sail in search of an anonymous horizon. Depth is brutal. Waters are turbulent. The more we advance, the more my anguish seems like a menacing beast. It assaults me, cleverly and deliberately, and paralyzes me. The night turns even darker. The sky grows even more distant. I can’t find my art. Suddenly, up in the distance, a bright yellow light appears. Then another, and another one, all of them are mesmerizing stars. My anguish takes on a smell of immortality that covers all futures in blue.