Places blend in constant fugue... a blur, space changes, time is gone, and you are ten cents poorer (weigh your wallet before, and then after, to find the difference... though there is always the danger that you pay in a blood currency, which means you'll have to weigh yourself to find the differential, and then guess the price by reckoning how valuable what you lost was to you, and how badly it was needed by those who took it). Here, as an example of this photographic and universally realistic process, we see the previous shot blend into the new shot we are in now, through a simple dissolve. When one eye closes, and space collapses into its analogue, the second dimension, you are then given the sudden option of traveling from place to flat place simply by blinking the remaining open eye. But there is a certain moral imperative (what happens next?) that keeps our eye(s) open now, since we want to see what happens in front us, as the killing lab technician, turned sideways to his poisonous task, pours liquids and writes a story on a small pad of paper at his side. Perhaps scientific, but could be personal.