and he put the last stroke to the canvas a tear fell his wife called forth the family now mostly unknown to him and generations younger than this, his masterpiece
it was finally finished so many of his friends had passed on to wherever they believed and now so could he too and so he called him 'It's finished' he said 'I will make the arrangements' responded the voice and then the master smiled and left.
and in the great hall in the main room it hung freed from the decades of it's creation and people would walk by and say 'oh my god,' 'what type of wood is that frame made out of?' 'I don't know,' they would say, 'but it looks cheap.' and they would move on to the next masterpiece