I photograph the reflection. I watch the way how it lives and changes, deliberately getting out of camera's sight, hiding around the corner and thereby erasing myself from the image where I must exist. I stitch the reflection into a panorama, restoring what left that intangible trace.
However, space, obeying the laws of physics, resists my desire to disappear, and the photograph captures it. It makes my tricks obvious and thus reveals me to others, reducing all efforts to nothing. The discrepancies found in the image are me, the trace of my action and my presence. As a photographer, I can't hide, the photo shows me and my imprint on it. The reflection ceases to be a reflection of the space and becomes indirectly mine.