I just read about Van Gogh's death. It was something I had never heard before.
He walked into a field, shot himself in the chest, survived, walked back to town and died two days later.
I can't imagine what he must have been thinking. I can't imagine what must have been running through his head just before he started walking back to town.
I mean....it's not the sort of situation where you say, "well, I guess I could go get a sandwich."