How can a finished painting compete with all that was promised at its beginning?
Is an achievement as sublime as the promises that were once suggested there? I sincerely do not know.
It is as if the first brushstrokes were made of passion, while the last ones were made of love.
And I believe this is why we are so captivated by the tragic love stories because they are passions that will never cease because they have been crystallized by tragedy. Is Tragedy the only way to immortalize a Passion?
It may be that a big painting needs to make promises, not necessarily keep or explain that promises.
Maybe great songs are potent for just that, too, for their ability to cement Passions.