We see ourselves in the reflection. Thoughts in the mirror of the world outside; in the mirror of memories connected to the world outside ourselves, coming forth from the past. Reflection is not us, it is what we are able to see. Others see us differently than we see ourselves. Are we ourselves the way we see ourselves, or are we the inversion of the inversion of ourselves? I see a strange dependence of things on things, and relations on relations. Extracting man-made objects from the urban environment, I question their absurdity, facing them in the strictness of their forms. They seem to be codes, but might be none.