The Narrative of: Eight Witnesses to an Open Secret, While He Steps on Air and Calls it the Right Way
He walks with the unearned confidence of a king, crowned in a halo of feathers, his eyes fixed on a rainbow that offers no footing. To the Fool, the path seems ordained; the floating Ace of Swords hovers before him, promising that this is "The Right Way." But the cliff is indifferent to his optimism, and gravity is waiting.
Only the Queen of Coins, manifest here as a great Doe, understands the danger. She is the anchor of the earth, bearing the weight of true value in her antlers—the ancient wisdom of the Owl and a singular, physical coin, a piece of found fortune fused permanently to the scene. She pulls against his momentum, trying to tether him to the safety of the brown earth before he steps into the void.
The landscape holds its breath, from the distant mountain cabin to the waterfalls tumbling into the ground. Watching it all are eight bees—sculptural, three-dimensional forms buzzing with the tension of the moment. They are the only ones witnessing the full extent of the Fool's folly. He is not just unaware of the cliff, he is unaware of his own exposure. True to the bawdy humor of the original 14th-century cards, he is fully revealing himself—a detail painted so subtly that it blends into his coat until the moment you notice it, after which it becomes impossible to unsee.
