This WAS Us: Death in the Evening.
Depictions of a life, long lived, like that of a man whom paints his picture; not like the pictures one would find in a hotel for those are too perfect, too temporary, too cliché in their color schemes, paint strokes done by machine, lacking uniqueness or flaws, mechanical, cold, hard; but the ones found in a crack house, the modern versions of Picasso for the authors of their domains are no longer with us and insignificant until death and some sycophant determines that these are the highest of arts for they represent death; conveyed as the painful representations they are in the way they are, here, for us all, an inevitable reminder that the world as we want it to be, unable to be, and therefore we are left to take what was given by those who lived, and their representation of death while living; now immortalized as simply, death. (My Hemingway attempt) The dad from This is Us, Moses from, well, The Bible, Leonidas from 300, Troy from the Legend, what do all of these...