There’s a reason optical illusions are so popular around the world.
Let’s face it, who doesn’t like having a play around with perception? Who doesn’t like to be frustratingly mystified when they can’t see something others can with ease?
From time to time, we stumble across puzzles that truly leave us stumped, and part of the fun is then sharing it with others to see who can – for lack of better words – crack the code.
Well, one such image has surfaced on the web … one that has people busting their brains and scratching their scalps for an answer. See if you’re one of the lucky few who can see what most people can’t.
The picture above is a classic illusion; one that at first glance is as confusing as it is difficult to decipher. Of course, the great thing about such optical tricks is that once you’ve solved them, you can’t be fooled again.
The image in question hides an image within an image. So, when you look at it, what do you see?
Do you see a frog? Do you see a horse? Do you see both?
If it’s one of the first two, then we have something to tell you. Both are in the image, but that doesn’t mean you’ll be able to make them both out.
The horse
Still don’t see it? OK, we’ll give you a hint.
The image doesn’t contain an entire horse, just the head and neck.
Found if yet? Still no?
Right … have a look over by the lily pad – it has a rather odd texture, wouldn’t you agree?
Still haven’t found it? Well … the frog’s body is the horses head. Bear that in mind and try again. Good luck!
Did you see both the horse and the frog without needing help?
If you’ve managed to see both, share this article on Facebook and challenge your friends and family to a bit of fun!
Almost everyone sees the frog in the image … but finding the horse is where things get tricky. Have a closer look.
I Allowed a Homeless Woman to Stay in My Garage—One Day I Walked in Unannounced and Was Shocked by What I Saw
I tapped the steering wheel, trying to shake the weight on my chest, when I spotted a disheveled woman digging through a trash can. I slowed down, drawn in by her grim determination.
She looked fragile yet fierce, fighting for survival. Without thinking, I pulled over, rolled down my window, and asked, “Do you need help?”
Her response was sharp but tired: “You offering?”
“I just saw you there,” I admitted, stepping out. “It didn’t seem right.”
“What’s not right is life,” she scoffed, crossing her arms. “You don’t strike me as someone who knows much about that.”
“Maybe not,” I replied, then asked if she had a place to stay.
“No,” she said, and I felt compelled to offer my garage as a temporary home. To my surprise, she accepted, albeit reluctantly.
Over the next few days, we shared meals and conversations. Lexi’s sharp wit broke through my loneliness, but I could sense her hidden pain.
One afternoon, I barged into the garage and froze. There, sprawled across the floor, were grotesque paintings of me—chains, blood, a casket. Nausea hit me.
That night, I confronted her. “What are those paintings?”
Her face went pale. “I didn’t mean for you to see them. I was just… angry.”
“So you painted me as a monster?” I demanded.
She nodded, shame in her eyes. “I’m sorry.”
I struggled to forgive her. “I think it’s time for you to go.”
The next morning, I helped her pack and drove her to a shelter, giving her some money. Weeks passed, and I felt the loss of our connection.
Then, a package arrived—another painting. This one was serene, capturing a peace I hadn’t known. Inside was a note with Lexi’s name and number.
My heart raced as I called her. “I got your painting… it’s beautiful.”
“Thank you. I didn’t know if you’d like it,” she replied.
“You didn’t owe me anything,” I said, reflecting on my own unfairness.
“I’m sorry for what I painted,” she admitted. “You were just… there.”
“I forgave you the moment I saw that painting. Maybe we could start over.”
“I’d like that,” she said, a smile evident in her voice.
We made plans to meet again, and I felt a flicker of hope for what could be.
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