A single thin white line enters from the left edge, dead straight, and strikes the face of a glass triangle floating in absolute black. What comes out the other side is no longer white. It fans into colour, one quiet act of physics happening in the dark.
There is no band photo, no title, no name, nothing but the beam, the prism, and the empty field around them. That emptiness is the boldest choice on the whole cover. It is a tiny piece of theatre, and it works precisely because everything surrounding it is pitch black.
Behind that stark image sits a brief that was almost comically modest, a science-book diagram redrawn by hand, and a moment when four musicians pointed at the same thing without a word of argument. To see how a prism became the face of Pink Floyd, follow the light.





























