Eclipse
At first glance, we think we know what we are seeing. A horse. A rider. And the moon, immense, behind them.
Everything seems motionless. The horse does not walk. The rider stands upright. Their profiles, like shadow puppets, are sharp, as if cut from paper.
The rider’s conical headdress brings to mind a samurai, a ritual dancer from Japanese theatre, or even a shaman from archaic times. The horse is regal. Their appearance against the silent screen of the moon gives off a feeling of power. Then something else emerges: a sense of solemnity, serious and slightly mysterious.
It is a man-horse, speckled with lunar craters, visible in transparency across its silhouette. A double being, floating without ground or horizon in the substance of the moon. A dream, perhaps. Or an apparition. And we remain there, without understanding, fascinated, watching.

Eclipse
At first, you think you recognise something. A horse. A rider. They are there. Very calm. In front of a huge, round moon. They look like shadow puppets. The rider wears a strange hat. You don’t know if he is a warrior. Or maybe a magician.
Then, if you look more closely, the horse and the man seem to blend together. On their bodies, the moon appears, with its craters. As if the night had passed right through them.
Is it a horse? Is it a man? Or a new being, a man-horse made of moon dust? You don’t really understand. But you stay there, looking. Because sometimes there is nothing to explain. Just something to feel.