The colour of nervousness

I went back a couple of hours later, with the mirror, as a continuation of last summer's picture making at Site D. Lately I've been pondering splitting the mirror somehow to literally break up the frame, emulating the effect of Thomas Barrow, who scratched his negatives, or even drawing lines from corner to corner with a black marker pen, but oh, I don't know.

As I got to the end of the long, deserted road past dilapidated industrial buildings a couple of cars pulled in behind me. It's a lonely road, no-one goes down there. The drivers seemed to know each other. They turned their engines off. I waited at the roadside for a bit hoping they'd disappear but they seemed to be set to wait for something so after a few minutes I impatiently headed in rather than heading home.

Last time I was there security had warned me off entering the factories but today I dived inside through a torn-down door. I was half expecting to be followed inside and have a different kind of conversation this time (ending with me not having a camera anymore) so I was anxious. I'm shooting these held-mirror pictures with the self-timer set to 10 seconds, giving enough time to place it on the floor and then position the mirror above it while counting off the seconds in my head. It was probably the nervousness but I found I had to actually count up to 15 otherwise I was messing up the timing and moving the mirror away too soon. Those 10 second waits seemed to take forever.