Till Roeskens: 
In the beginning, when I thought about coming here, all I had in mind was to ask the residents to draw maps. I did not know that I would make a film; but over the years, video work has became more and more important for me. This thing that I call “video-mapping,” I think it comes from a film I saw about Picasso where they--

Azareen Van der Vliet Oloomi: 
Yes, The Mystery of Picasso?

 Till Roeskens: 
Tes, where they made drawings like this. So I reinvented it a little bit and built a frame with wood I found lying around the camp. The nails you could buy from the grocery store—used nails. They’re really very precious here, I think. I built it so that it can stand upright on the table and fit the shape of the biggest sheets of paper I could find, which were about one meter large. Then, I asked residents of the camp to draw with big ink pens so the marks would go through the paper. I filmed from the other side, as they drew, so I didn’t see the person while they were drawing and speaking; I saw only the white screen with the light coming from behind me.

 Azareen Van der Vliet Oloomi: 
And they were speaking as they drew, simultaneously?

 Till Roeskens: 
Alternately, I would say. The editing makes it seem like it’s really in the moment—the words come and the line comes as if the words are magically drawing the map. Of course in reality it’s a little bit more disconnected because it’s hard to speak and to draw at the same time. I would ask a question—there was always someone from the camp who spoke a little English sitting on the side of the table who could see both of us—so I would ask a question and he would translate, and the participant would draw something. And then I would say, “Can you explain to me what it is? Can you make this or that a bit more specific?” Then they would do it and I would say, “If you go further in this direction, what is there, what happened then?” It was quite a long dialogue, but the editing makes it seem more like one concentrated story.

 Read the full interview here

‘Published on 23 September 1958, the book had a distinctive blue cover with “EXODUS” in type that evoked Hebrew lettering. A freedom fighter stretched the complete length of the book jacket, his rifle barrel casually pointing upward to the author's name. Maps are used for the endpapers and to introduce each of the five books of the novel (an intentional parallel with the five books of Moses that make up the Torah). A biblical quotation accompanies each of the maps that introduce an individual section. Additionally, a map of the Middle East emphasizing the minuscule region of Israel appears inside the front cover. The rear map is a close-up of the country , the verso the northern part of the land, the recto the southern. Uris clearly felt the need to situate the reader geographically throughout his 626 pages.’
  Ira B. Nadel, Leon Uris: Life of a Best Seller (Austin TX: University of Texas Press, 2010), p.108.

Preminger’s film features several maps, but none of them works to situate the viewer geographically throughout its 119 minutes.

'We travel like other people, but we return to nowhere. As if travelling
Is the way of the clouds. We have buried our loved ones in the darkness of the clouds, between the roots of the trees.
And we said to our wives: go on giving birth to people like us for hundreds of years so we can complete this journey
To the hour of a country, to a metre of the impossible.
We travel in the carriages of the psalms, sleep in the tent of the prophets and come out of the speech of the gypsies.
We measure space with a hoopoe's beak or sing to while away the distance and cleanse the light of the moon.
Your path is long so dream of seven women to bear this long path
On your shoulders. Shake for them palm trees so as to know their names and who'll be the mother of the boy of Galilee.
We have a country of words. Speak speak so I can put my road on a stone of a stone.
We have a country of words. Speak speak so we may know the end of this travel.'
  Mahmud Darwish, 'We Travel Like Other People', in Victims of a Map: a Bilingual Anthology of Arabic Poetry (London: Saqi, 2005), p.31.