abstract painting picture

strangely-shaped dwelling, its odd little windows shedding a warm yellow light in thedamp rain-forest. He skirted the mire, and crouching low, entered the cottage. Yoda stood smiling inside, his small green hand clutching his walking stick forsupport. "Waiting for you I was," he nodded. He motioned Luke to sit in a corner. The boy was struck by how much morefrail Yoda's manner seemed—a tremor to the hand, a weakness to the voice. It madeLuke afraid to speak, to betray his shock at the old master's condition. "That face you make," Yoda crinkled his tired brow cheerfully. "Look I so badto young eyes?" He tried to conceal his woeful countenance, shifting his position in the crampedspace. "No, Master…of course not." "I do, yes, I do!" the tiny Jedi Master chuckled gleefully. "Sick I've become.Yes. Old and weak." He pointed a crooked finger at his young pupil. "Whennine hundred years old you reach, look as good you will not."