This painting I've come up with, once I saw the man on the street, once a priest and now an outcast. Denying donations and not hoping for a better world. He was completely devastated, once a cheerful, loving, and living man, never hoping to return to his real life. Cases like that sometimes hit me way much stronger that my own leading of thought.

The loss of hope could be the most terrible thing have ever happened to a human being. All the times you believed, all the times you prayed and relied on, it's all gone. And nothing more can elevate your mind, and nothing else matters now. Reconciled, mutilated, full of pain, and only now, you come up with the real glimpse of hope, so far away you couldn't notice before. But now you are enlightened, now you see, and even the inevitable circumstances do not bother you anymore. Now man is mature, and now man is strong and accepting.