Vincent Van Gogh, an artist way ahead of his era, if he had only known that his life was much more precious than the individual who took it from him at 37 years old, surviving for an excruciating 29 hours after being shot in the stomach. Mysteriously the weapon of the killers choice has never been recovered, nor has the suspicions subsided even to this day. A mix of just wanting to give up when every day is tormented by a group of hoodlums until you check yourself into an insane asylum and move to a new city with little to support yourself but still not giving up. Then to have your closest family member never becoming your best friend, however, to the family eye they're your biggest fan and they became your best friend in the first place because you never sent all of the letters that you wrote them in fear that they would not understand just like the rest of society. This is what you won't read about in museum write-ups, or editorials.....this is the real philosophy based...