I include this sentence in reference to Cine-Biology (1910), written by F. Percy Smith, Mary Field, and J.V. Durden. Emerging in the 1900s, around the time a flower blooms, this scientific-aesthetic concept has become both the cornerstone of this program as well as that of my routine walks through the forest.

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An early March evening... I walk along a narrow path in the Scheveningse Bosjes, near my home in The Hague, a path whose purpose, whether meant for horses or people, remains unclear. These are the hours during which the city’s scheduled rush meets with the forest’s unruly rhythm. In a European city where surprise rarely finds space to unfold, forests have become a place of refuge, captivating me with their untamed nature. It’s unpredictability resonates with something deep inside, each time inevitably forging a connection to cinema.

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As the years have passed, my belief that light being the source of everything just as it is also, the source of cinema, has only grown stronger. As I look up hoping to catch a glimpse of a Red Robin, I remember the phrase ‘’Cinema is the ability to block out the sun with your hand.”  The conviction takes deeper root. Even the oversized shadows of the tiny Blue Tit as it gently hops up the tree trunk, begins at some point, to affirm this belief. I have often experienced how deformation in cinema can serve beauty. As I walk away from the tree where I had been watching the Blue Tit for a while, a small bush completely covered and nearly consumed by spiderwebs catches my eye. Within my mind, the bush is connected to a strip of film; both shaped by the shared choreography of unpredictability and distortion. Caught between overthinking cinema and a desire to experience nature and light without drawing them into cinematic connections, I continue my journey.