So mamma Archibald went to Amsterdam on holibags, visited the Vincent van Gogh museum, and came back with presents.
My present was a journal/notepad printed with Vinnie's good ol' Wheatfield with Crows, but it also came with a story.
My Aunt had explained to mamma Archibald that one day van Gogh is sat in his wicker chair, bummed as ever about life and ready to take more than just his ear: he's going to evacuate life for good.
Being the tortured soul that he is though, in this moment he has a vision that must be put on canvas. Compelled by artistic obligation to birth this image, he paints Wheatfield with Crows before getting back to real business and topping himself.
But anyways I listened to it and decided that this would be perfect as my new existential angst journal. Only mistake was getting on Google and finding out the whole story is bull crap: wasn't even the last painting he did before he died.
Oh well, looks nice...