Painting oil over wood
The life porch is unstable. One of its columns has bent.
The Asclepi disciple’s amphora is looking for the remedy on the ground.
A couple of sailors are waiting for the traveller.
Those who passed away migrate now alone, as red balls, to a new Elysium.
The crying, the mourning, the damn virus on the top, next to a professional who makes his best to save a life.
