Late 50s, Yet Art

A man in his late 50s, with a regal yet weary face, sits cross-legged on the cracked ground of Olungwe’s grand courtyard. His gaunt cheeks, streaked with tears, hint at the depths of his sorrow. A freshly shaved head reveals a battle-earned scar, adding to his aura of quiet strength and vulnerability. He is draped in tattered mourning robes of deep gray, each thread a testament to his despair. Surrounding him, the once-vibrant fields of gold stand faded, their stalks bending under a heavy gray sky. In the distance, villagers clad in muted tones observe with a mix of fear and reverence etched into their faces. A gentle wind stirs the dust around him, carrying whispers of an unspoken anguish.