Ashes by Edvard Munch, 1895
Part of a long series he kept adding to and rehanging for years — love, jealousy, illness, death, all of it as one run. Supposedly this one went under a second title along the lines of 'After the Fall', which tells you roughly where in that story we've arrived.
Erisava: The woods behind her are nearly black. That white dress is almost the only thing lit. What's your take?
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Took me a while to notice there's a man crouched in the corner at all.