True painters expect at least recognition. I considered myself one of them but I gave up a long time ago. I don't even remember why I keep painting. Is it because I enjoy it? I certainly do but it breaks my heart to see my creations stay in my room, full of dust. Maybe a part of me still believes I can actually become someone if I keep doing it. But what am I saying? Everything I do is pointless! Disgusting! Sad! Let's face it: I'm broke, I need a real job and painting is not an option anymore.

Those were the thoughts going through my head as I walked to the bar. I knew I wasn't exactly welcome there, I owe them a lot, but I needed a drink. I used to pay them with paintings but they didn't want them anymore.

I looked at the place from a distance. It was quiet popular and truly beautiful under the stars but I couldn't like it, my bad mood was taking over me. It seemed warm inside, with the window's shadows reflected on the street and people's laughs and talks, happily enjoying their meals. It was always like this, that's why I liked it.

I sat in one of the many white round tables outside and stared blankly at nothing knowing that probably no one would ask for my order.

"Vincent?" I heard. I looked up and saw this girl. She was stunning, with her big green eyes and her shiny red hair.

The red hair caught my attention. I hadn't seen many gingers in France, one of the reasons why I missed the Netherlands.

"That's what they call me." I said. She sat in from of me. I couldn't take my eyes of her direction, so I let it out: "Your hair is red".

She got closer, "Yes, so is yours".

We stared at each other for a couple of seconds.

"You're a painter, right?"

"You could say so. People usually "say lazy old man" but sure, I am a painter."

More silence. She looked at the inside of the bar. I was intrigued. How could she know me?

"Do you want to buy a painting?" I finally asked.

She smiled and retorted, "No. I don't have any money." I have to admit I was a bit disappointed. "Do you come here often?"

"Sometimes, when I have something to pay with."

"Listen to me, Vincent. You may not be in the best of situations right now and I know you don't know me, which means you don't trust me but, keep painting. Do not give up. Paint what you feel like painting, sunflowers, your bedroom, the sky in the night full of stars, even this bar! Because one day, one day people will realize how brilliant you are. "

She started walking away.

"Wait. You really think I'm good?"

She smiled again.

"I think all the lights would drain out of the skies if you ever gave up trying".

And that was it. I never saw her again. As soon as she left I went back to the house to get my equipment, went to the bar and did what she said. I painted. And I kept on painting till the end of my days. Because someone, at least one person, actually cared about me.

Vincent Van Gogh (1853-1890)