In the painting As He Watched Him Walk Away by Toyin Ojih Odutola, a man cups his head in his hands. We can’t see his eyes, just a bit of nose, a mouth in pout. We see the man, but his sorrow is obscured; we read it in the gesture, those cupped hands and sloping shoulders, that furrowed brow, and of course, the mouth. Is it truly pouting? We read the man’s sorrow, too, in the striking contrast between the gesture and the lush green landscape that surrounds him. How could one find oneself bereft there, in a place of such clear abundance? Who walked away, and when, and why? A story is emerging.