Reflection confronts identity as a site of construction rather than truth. The central figure sits exposed, stitched and repaired, facing a translucent double that reveals not a mirror but an absence. What appears as reflection becomes displacement: the self fractured into versions shaped by memory, trauma, and expectation. Suspended figures in the distance suggest forces of control and manipulation, bodies pulled by invisible systems rather than personal will. The desert-like space amplifies isolation and stillness, turning introspection into a psychological landscape. Reflection is not about self-recognition, but about realizing that the self is something continuously assembled, negotiated, and never fully reached.
