Source: Litterateur Redefining World, June 2026
Mary Anne Zammit is a Maltese author, poet, and probation officer with academic training in social work, diplomatic studies, and probation services, known for her novels, international poetry publications, and contributions to social discourse through research, journalism, and public presentations.
There are days when I really find it hard to live in this world full of chaos and unrest. In my ears, I can still hear the cries of children lost in conflicts and war.
In the waves, there are memories of hope, of the immigrants who crossed the Mediterranean for a new life, only to vanish and drown.
The wind sings songs of unheard animals, all like parallel bridges to my life.
One night I looked at the stars, and the masters of the skies reminded me that there is Art.
I thought of my beloved artist, Vincent van Gogh.
Most often in my imagination, I see him on a frosty winter night, painting and painting, even though in his mind he was constantly afflicted by mental anguish. He never quit, but kept painting the stars which hold all the secrets of the Universe.
I am looking now at the painting of Vincent van Gogh, at one of his greatest masterpieces. It is my way of escaping from this world. The Starry Night is not merely a landscape, but a painting Vincent created from memory, portraying his emotional life. He painted beyond what he saw in physical reality, representing what lay beyond his daily existence.
I closed my eyes and let myself drown within the painting and its deep emotions.
Vincent van Gogh yearned for love and, in a way, we were both similar.
Blue and yellow fused together, dancing in a single ballad.
I closed my eyes and let myself fly away from the room while the colours emerged from the painting.
Then, unknowingly, I found myself in another room and even in another time.
The door was slightly open, and I went in. I could see a yellow chair and many other paintings scattered all over the floor. And I recognized one of the paintings.
The Starry Night.
I took a deep breath. A faint shadow approached me.
It could not be him.
He came closer and watched me intently, his penetrating blue eyes fixed on my brazen skin. It was without doubt him.
He finally spoke.
“Do you like my painting?”
“Yes, it is great!”
“You say so because you are in front of its creator.”
“No, really, it is beautiful,” I replied, almost taken aback by his response.
Vincent smiled and kept on painting.
I remained there watching him as he spread thick paste upon the canvas — not only colours, but also his innermost passion and love.
He looked at me again and asked, “Tell me, what is it you see in this painting?”
I drowned in silence, but then I found the courage to speak.
“I see passion and emotion. I see a journey through the passage of night into the unknown.”
Vincent looked at me, and there I could see the sea in his eyes.
“Only an artist can understand this — that we have a mission to show the world how we see it through our eyes.”
Vincent spoke again:
“If you hear a voice within you saying, ‘You are not a painter,’ then by all means paint, and that voice will be silenced only by working.”
Yes, I recalled these familiar words taken from his letters to his brother Theo van Gogh.
“Yes, so true. Art is a voyage between reality and non-reality, life and death. Art is love,” I uttered.
There was silence again, and Vincent applied another thick layer of paint onto the canvas.
Marvellous!
Then his voice echoed again through the room.
“Love, love. What is love but a journey which always brings difficulties? Yet the good side is that it always gives us energy to keep moving.”
Vincent paused and then said, “I bet you understand, for you were deeply in love.”
I nodded, and at that moment I thought of the one who still ruled my heart.
“Yes,” I said.
Love is what keeps us going, and only my passion for Art has kept me going.Vincent’s words echoed in my ears: “No matter what happens in life, never cease to paint. The world may isolate you; love may disappoint you, but Art will not.”
He paused and then said again:
“I carry a lot of love in my heart, but I have no one to share it with, so I share it with Art.”
These were his last words as he turned back to painting.
I remained there watching the process.
The Starry Night was finally completed. Majestic. Inspirational. It sent chills all over me. Suddenly I found myself back in real life.
It must have been a dream, but the message lingered in my mind. I had spoken to Vincent van Gogh, and his passion for art will always remain with me.
Heavy clouds marked his soul with turbulence and deep pain. Yet within his darkness he managed to fill the world with the colours of his paintings, with thick paint and hard brushstrokes.
Only Vincent van Gogh remains one of the most loved and cherished painters in the world. His paintings depicted his endless struggle for love and suffering.
Vincent struggled to articulate the inner spirituality of his constant instability, and he poured it all onto the canvas.
And we need to be like him.
We need another Vincent van Gogh!