Panorama is the first word for landscape in Greek. It was about [how today] we see everything, we get to see everything, everything is shown to you whether you want it or not, but all of the time you only see fragments of reality. The big picture we really don't see; it's kind of hard to make it up.

We are very concerned all the time with figuring out new technologies and advances in science, but really [while] our future is dependent on science and progress, it's not less dependent on the way we treat each other.

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 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.

You look at them, the animals in the wild, and they stay the same. They have their rules which I cannot decipher, and there's something very strong about that, it's also unknown and for me unpredictable.

I go and film 50 people in Israel, 50 people in Russia, and 50 people in Romania, in Paris, because I really like to get some particles of something real.

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.