A personal story behind the scream painting.

Simply just another ordinary day I thought to myself, a walk with my old man. Dragging my feet across the pier, hearing my footsteps get heavier and heavier, dying of boredom was simply a very possible thing for me at that exact moment. I must say though, what I would give to relive that day. I was about four years of age back then, my fathers’ big hands absolutely wrapping mine, holding me tightly as if he was scared to lose me. Looking back now, I think he just did not want to deal with the trouble of trying to find me, if I was to wonder off. No one really knows what goes on in a curious four-year olds mind, nor do we remember what went on in our own minds when we were four. We just had so many unanswered questions and fairy-tale like adventures.

He suddenly stopped and let go of my hand at that point, I was pretty surprised by this, I looked up as far as my short neck could reach and saw his eyes lost in the distance, without looking away or even blinking he then placed both hands on either on my head – his hands were bigger than my whole face and neck combined — one hand on each side, covering my ears and squeezing my cheeks and turned my head towards the edge of the ocean and whispered “look at the sky”. I was mesmerized by what I saw. In its literal sense, simply froze on the spot. A weird trembling feeling creeped up my legs starting from the tip of my toes. It was  a tremble of fear. But it was a fear you’d embrace and not look or run away from. The sky was blood shot red, angry, I remember thinking, why Is the sky so angry. I somehow always associated the skies with god, I assumed god was angry. What did the human race do to bring anger to god to simply make the bluest of skies to be covered in spilled ink of red.

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