A crow stands on top of a skull. Its feet hold on to the bone like it owns it now. It leans down and looks straight into the skull’s face, as if it is waiting for an answer. The skull cannot give one. Its mouth is open, but whatever it wanted to say is gone. Two bones lie crossed underneath it on the dark ground. Behind them the whole sky is red. Only the crow is moving. Only the crow has a living eye, and that eye is red too. Whoever this was had a name once, and a voice, and things they meant to say. Now the crow is the one who gets to speak last. Why I made this: I keep thinking about how much we save for later. The call we will make tomorrow. The thing we will say when the time is right. The person we will forgive one day. Then I think about how later is not promised to anyone. The skull in this painting is not scary to me. It is just someone who ran out of time with their mouth still open. And the crow is not evil either. It is just what is left after. It is the world going on, looking down at what we did not finish. I painted the crow leaning close on purpose. It looks like it is listening, like it is giving the skull one last chance to say something. But it is too late for that. So this one is a reminder to me, and maybe to you. Say it now. Do the thing now. Do not leave the last word to the crow.