We see everything, we see what's going on in Syria, we see what's going on with the refugees. What can you do about it? And we have to do something.

I go back to [the idea] that we are avoiding all of these unknowns, we're avoiding the night - most of us - we're avoiding the encounters, but we're also afraid to deal with something unknown, unseen.

Animals are always goddesses and gods, like the god Anubis. He's the one who's accompanying the souls to the next life, and he's the one who decides if they will be able to cross or not.

We're always trying to avoid being in the darkness, not knowing, and also encountering animals. There's something about them not wanting to be seen; they go out at night, they hide, they don't want to be shown. It's very interesting genetically that they have to hide from us actually. Between themselves, they smell each other, but there is this thing of hiding, of suspicion.

I carry some kind of consideration and weight and observations about what is going on in the world, but I don't go to execute it.

That's what animals do all of the time; they watch out, they watch out, and I saw, "This is us now." Us, the world, we are watching out.

We are getting used to levels of violence, we are getting used to seeing these horrific things going on all the time. I think it's tough. It's rough.