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It’s might not seem obvious at first, but imagine that the horizon is the axis, the center about which the earth and sky are inverted, and then it’s almost as if that curve in the rock is being mirrored by the curve in the clouds (it’s like a horizontal parabola, a parabola flipped on its side, crossing the x axis of the horizon around where you can see that small island on the horizon on the right-hand side).
The double-curve takes you in and all things get inverted by the mirror of the horizon: things close by, things in front of you get swung up far back in the distance and back again; the solidity of the rock becomes the immateriality of the sky; colour becomes translucence, then freeze back into matter; rough edges turn to liquid smoothness. In the center the blue of the water is inverted in the orchre of the grass. The flaming grass-fur burns against the cold steel-grey. It then confines all the four elements: reading from front to back/from down to up you can see earth (rock) – fire (grass) – water – sky.

And that small island out on the horizon, the one in the point where the rock/sky curves meet. That’s where the landscape is taking you, that’s where you’re going, to some imaginary vanishing point, the vanishing point of the imaginary.