They opened the box together. Inside, wrapped in a cloth that smelled faintly of camphor and motor oil, were film canisters, their labels cracked and dulled. One in particular was different: its leader taped by hand, a handwritten slip tucked against the spool that read only, “Play at midnight. For Lena.”
To truly understand the marriage of these fields, one must look at specific cases that baffle general practitioners.
