Addendum 5680.1: Final Entry, dated July 25th, 1890

The rain continues to pour on the fields. A rather fitting weather for what grim news has been brought to my attention.

Theo's child has fallen ill and he himself appears to have his own troubles maintaining his health and occupation for the sake of his son.

The demon no longer sings to me anymore. It just sits or stands alone in a corner of the room where I can see it while I do my painting. While I no longer sense any impulse to paint for any ulterior purpose, not for fame, wealth, or recognition; the feeling has been far too ingrained into my very being to simply cease. I have to keep going, even if I do not want to.

And the prospect grows darker, I see no future at all.

Despite this, the trouble I had in my head has considerably calmed… I am completely absorbed in that immense plain covered with fields of wheat against the hills boundless as the sea in delicate colors of yellow and green, the pale violet of the plowed and weeded earth checkered at regular intervals with the green of the flowering potato plants, everything under a sky of delicate blue, white, pink, and violet. I am almost too calm, a state that is necessary to paint all that.

The rain has stopped now. The clouds have let some sunlight shine through.

It is a beautiful day outside.