In the middle canvas, horsemen of the Apocalypse descend from a lightning-struck sky upon an exquisite sunny hillside of people going about their lives. One woman is playing music. Another is bathing. Several are collecting water. The horsemen catch them unawares, the mortals at the top of the hill standing before a crucifix in shock, arms outspread or hands met in prayer, while death arrives to shake them from their slumber. We are left in little doubt that the still serenity of the middle sky and waterfall lying between them is about to be crushed.

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