Twisted darkness separates place and place in this  filme , a  route   film  punctuated by long nights spent tied and drugged in the trunk of a  voiture . When the trunk  porte  opens (or the  objectif  cap comes off the  caméra  again), you can only see the  main  of the person who has the keys and drives the  voiture , which is fine, because the morning  lumière  is a bit bright. Past the suddenly-gone  main , past the bubbles or  abeille  which  nuage  your sight, at the bottom of your  yeux  frame, a father walks his son in  devant  of a  blanc   maison  sided with long continuous pieces of lumber... an Eastern  maison , somewhere north or south. Where are you? Someone else's childhood? Why were you brought here? And what is blurring your  yeux , exactly? Stars from the  ciel , a multitude of ghost-like snow-blobs, ascending in  devant  of a  arbre  revealed by the sudden disappearance of the cameraman's  main , a  main  which has left with its anonymous owner, releasing you to an accidental loneliness in an unidentified place. Actually, you know where you are.. at James Hive-Maker's  maison . You came here of your own free will. But where were you before this? Just a few seconds ago, wasn't it some other  planète ? Can't you remember the crowd rushing towards you, the greetings, concern about your condition... one of the villagers took you  maison , fed you sticky food, and nursed you back to your current state of pre-health? Sometimes your host, in company with visitors who came to the  maison  for that purpose, asked questions in an off-hand manner about the technology you used to transport yourself here.     A l'été 1916, James Hive-Maker revint au foyer et à son élevage d'abeilles au nord de Londres, pour surveiller le travail saisonnier et vérifier ses ruches.