She stands there, lying at the foot of the cliff, present and invisible, discreetly dominating.
Her dress is speckled with ivory and dust.
Patches of mother-of-pearl, shadows of obsidian, tears of gold.
The sky and the earth, day and night are melted in its coat.
The bezel is pointed at his body but the eye takes a moment to discern him.
The mind is slow to accept what it did not expect.
It’s hard to see what he doesn’t know.
Our reason, all of a sudden, understands that the beast is standing there, right in the face.
The landscape, by a strange optical illusion, seems to disappear entirely in its body.
It is no longer the panther that is camouflaged in the landscape,
but the world that has been incorporated into it.