Van Gogh gets to the Mediterranean for the first time in his life. He paints the sea, the boats. Goes all in on it. And then this. A street. With a tiny sliver of blue green just visible between the rooftops, right in the center. That little triangle is the trip. Everything he felt standing at that coast for the first time, squeezed into a gap between two roofs. He didn't have to put it there. He chose to let you almost miss it.
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