wall art painting

wall art painting
fantasy art painting
western art painting
realism art painting
'And immortality?' Maud queried loudly in the ear. ¡¡¡¡Three times the hand essayed to write, but fumbled hopelessly. The pencil fell. In vain we tried to replace it. The fingers could not close on it. Then Maud pressed and held the fingers, about the pencil with her own hand, and the hand wrote, in large letters, and so slowly that the minutes ticked off to each letter: ¡¡¡¡'B-O-S-H.' ¡¡¡¡It was Wolf Larsen's last word,- 'bosh,'- skeptical and invincible to the end. The arm and hand relaxed. The trunk of the body moved slightly. Then there was no movement. Maud released the hand. The fingers spread, falling apart of their own weight,
oil painting and the pencil rolled away. ¡¡¡¡'Do you still hear?' I shouted, holding the fingers and waiting for the single pressure which would signify 'yes.' There was no response. The hand was dead. ¡¡¡¡'I noticed the lips slightly move,' Maud said. ¡¡¡¡I repeated the question. The lips moved. She placed the tips of her fingers on them. Again I repeated the question. 'Yes,' Maud announced. We looked at each other expectantly. ¡¡¡¡'What good is it?' I asked. 'What can we say now?' ¡¡¡¡'Oh, ask him-'