Split Horizon began as a single photograph—an rural field under the moonlight. But through custom-written code, the image is transformed into a surreal division of reality. On the left: the moon, glowing in untouched orange sky, timeless and symbolic. On the right: warped rows of cows, trees, and grass, bent as if memory itself is glitching.

The visual rupture down the center is precise, yet spiritual. It represents the meeting point between the sublime and the distorted, between the remembered and the processed. Ceulemans does not filter the image—he reprograms it. Through this transformation, the scene becomes an echo chamber of contrast: serenity versus entropy, photograph versus perception.

Split Horizon is both humorous and philosophical. It poses questions about nature, technology, and truth—while retaining a poetic absurdity. It is a pastoral vision fractured through code, a visual poem made from syntax and distortion.