With every brushstroke he touched on his canvas, something broke inside him. The paintings he drew were a description of the world that reflected him, an expression of the troubles in his soul. He wanted to draw attention to the real problems of the real world, not the people of the imaginary worlds. He wanted to live as if he would die early, not as if he would never die, and leave a beautiful legacy. He used art as a tool to convey the advice he gave himself to others. While he was a leaf floating in the wind in someone else's world, he was the wind in his own world, the reality of the painter's interior.