The Scream by Munch Edvard

The sky has gone to burning orange and red, the water in the bay below is churning blue and black, and the figure on the walkway has stopped dead, hands clamped to a hollow face, mouth open wide.

Two others are still strolling along the boards in the distance, hats on, backs turned, apparently having noticed nothing at all. The railing runs away down the corner of the picture and the whole world seems to be bending with it.