As i was told the story of both the demise and reinassance of the admired painter, I felt squashed, crammed, between sky and the ground. The kite-shaped stars were falling, their endless tails all mixed up to form a web of uncertainties. The eyes of this web were so small I couldn't crawl through. My heart was beating as if it wanted to compensate the lack of a mouth of its own, to shout my feelings. However, even my heart wasn't powerful enough to break the web. The web approached dangerously to grasp me and then, as if ashamed, went backwards when, just in the same moment, I understood that his controversial painting has had the effect he had hoped for and that it is what he always wanted to acquire. The fact that i couldn't read through its message totally- and I was aware of that- is what hurt me most. Years before I used to be his preferate viewer, critic, FRIEND.