A loop of  filme  with no  entrée  or exit encloses the fears you bring here, to the images here. The loop isn't round; it is twisted and confused, enclosing a interior  espace  that perhaps has several extra dimensions. The loop, feeding now through the projector you see in  devant  of you, has excess that sits in two giant piles of made out of its'  seule  plastic strip, one pile in  devant  of the projector, and another behind. The two are perhaps linked by a channel under the  sol . Pictures are pulled up from one pile, dropped down to the other behind. Everywhere in the piles, the strips have coiled in just a  moitié  turn, so that  devant  of one part of the strip touches the back of another part, creating a temporary moebius strip. Thousands of these twisted  dimensions  moments simultaneously confuse the filmstrip piles, making it impossible and inappropriate to roll them back onto reels; somehow in this moebius economy there is always enough slippery slack to allow the uncoiled  filme  to make its way up from the  sol  to the  portail  of the projector (as you can see here). The strange-dimensional transition between the strips isn't a cut, but instead a different sort of edit. Images aligned left to right meet their right to left counterpoints, laid accidentally beneath them, and our view passes across this  Mirroir  divide, from one frame to the other, across the soft touch of multiple transparencies that connect the unwound  filme  lengths and confuse our sight.     Hive-Maker croyait qu'un jour, ces lumières essaimeraient dans notre monde, pour rejoindre les vivants.