Late 50s, Yet Art

A man in his late 50s, with a regal yet weary countenance, sits cross-legged on the dry, cracked ground of Olungwe’s once-grand courtyard. His gaunt cheeks are streaked with tears, and his freshly shaven head reveals a jagged scar from a past battle. Tattered mourning robes of deep gray cling to his frame, a symbol of his enduring despair. Surrounding him, the golden fields of the kingdom have dulled, their stalks languishing beneath an oppressive gray sky. In the distance, villagers clad in muted tones look on solemnly, their faces etched with a mix of fear and reverence. A gentle breeze stirs the dust around the man, carrying whispers of sorrow through the air.