"Trapped within the confines of our own mind, dwelling in the bliss of self-imposed barriers. What is real in a world of constant change, guided by irrational emotions while seeking justification for our deeds. Hollow sugar-coated words twisted to please. Narrating stories to the walls without ears, witnessing the lips move in vain as only hearing the echoes of our own thoughts."

What is the nature of art, where its value lies, it is solely based on the effectiveness of the story it tells and the connections it establishes with its audience. Is it all just an attempt to capture the emotions and sensations that art evokes in the viewer, leaving them to ponder whether the beauty they perceive is a mere facade or a genuine reflection of reality. As the viewer contemplates the painting's intricate layers, they may be struck by the notion that truth is elusive, subjective, and shaped by personal experience. Is the worth of art simply a beautiful lie, a seductive but ultimately hollow illusion that masks the deeper, more troubling questions that underlie our perception of the world around us? What is real? Can we be without meaning? What is the role of the artist? Are we truth or a lie we tell ourselves? Did human even write this thought-provoking description? Only the viewer can decide.