I care more about the shortened fish than the visually elongated fish

The world, the camera, and the photographer have some kind of relationship at the moment when the shutter is pressed, and sometimes I think romantically, how good it would be to take a photo that has nothing to do with me? But in fact, someone has to be responsible for pressing the shutter, and more or less the consciousness of the photographer will be projected on the screen.

So I thought that the most straightforward and crude method is to point the subject at the other person who is close to random movement, and then through the camera's real-time shooting and synthesis, try to break the so-called preset picture in the heart.

However, in the process of creation, I had a new understanding. I found that when using panoramic photography technology to take pictures, although the computer processed the picture in a horizontal joint, the whole process seemed to be a continuous "addition"; but from another angle I wonder if it is actually because the machine forcibly discarded some footage, and the entire shooting process disappeared linearly with time.

I care more about the shortened fish than the visually elongated ones.

So where did all the time lost by the machine go? What happened in the time that was judged to be discarded by the machine?​