The main image is of a bat engraving from a old french book. When the light is on bat skeletons appear underneath. The sides have parts of poems about bats and some pieces from a vintage book of calligraphia latina.

Alfred Tennyson - And Bats flew round in fragrant skys and wheel'd or lit the flimsy shapes that haunt the dusk; with ermine capes and wooly breasts, and beaded eyes.

Emily Dickenson - The bat is dun with wrinkled wings like fallow article, and not a song pervades his lips, or none perceptible. His small umbrella, quaintly halved, describing in the air an arc alike inscrutable, - Elate philosopher!

William Blake - The bat that flits at close of eve has left the brain that won't believe.

Robert Frost - And on the bat's mute antics, who would seem dimly to have made out my secret place, only to lose it when he pirouettes, and seek it endlessly with purblind haste.

Elizabeth Coatsworth - Wing through the darkness of the breast until with day they take their rest.