Like a real UFO, this domed ceiling flew into sight, then vanished without a trace. By that, I mean to say that I photographed it one day and for months I could not find it again. And not for want of trying. I described it to a couple of caretakers (no, they couldn’t help) and kept attempting to retrace my steps.

The mysterious temporary disappearance of a window or roof is not unusual. Recoleta Cemetery is a labyrinth of unnamed streets lined with around 4,870 tombs, some of them detached, others tightly packed rows of terraced ‘houses’. Sometimes there’s a clue in what’s reflected in my photo, but the plain stone cross didn’t give me much to go on.

A curious thing happened in my hunt for this stained-glass ceiling. I set out one Saturday afternoon determined to locate it. Usually I just scribble what I’m looking for on one of the several to-do lists in my handbag, but this time I printed the image I already had on a sheet of A4, in case I could show it to someone in the know. I’d imagined the tomb to be on a less-travelled path, but as I walked down one of the major thoroughfares, I felt an invisible pull to continue rather than turn off – and there, on the left, was my Cherub UFO. The power of setting a clear intention.

So, this is the last in my trilogy of summer repeats. Let’s call this one Cherub UFO: day, as it’s so obviously day, compared with the deceptive night-time look of Cherub UFO, with its flickering charcoal sky. I gather from your comments that the cherubs weren’t immediately obvious in that shot, but now you can see how they worked their way into the title.