He wandered aimlessly down the long corridor, so many paintings he thought... and for what? What is the meaning of all this painted photography? What is the meaning? As the end of the corridor came nearer there was a particular piece that caught his eye. It was strange and almost terrifying, unlike all those that hung around it. Nor was it of frolicking naked women, of a luscious bowl of fruit. But it required a fair bit of examining to understand the movements of the oil paints. “Something strange” thought he, it was as if the oil was moving... As his eyes focused to the bizarre tints he began to see the elaborate curling of waves and a rock in the middle that bore a lone man... staff in hand he was posed as if a man was combating the sea, fighting with his life in a way that the very sweat seemed apparent, glistening his face. The tapestry was truly horrifying indeed, and as he drew nearer, the oils showed more; a clap of thunder is visible striking near the peak of stone, the man dressed in robes parries and as this act of defense seems to be actually happening one sees his robes flutter, like fabric in water. The relentless waves appear to be even more ferocious than ever. Closer, closer he steps wide-eyed in disbelief. Then a larger wave than the rest rises up and engulfs the man the last that he sees is the robed man beaten against the peak. This man as if in one last muster of force lifts his staff and points the tip at he. A flash of light and the corridor grows still not a person in sight and the canvas at the end of the corridor is no more than a tattered old man and his cane upon a rock amongst a vicious sea.