This is the stuff of storybooks filled with enchanted tales of faraway lands. The image reminds me of the vivid colour plates in The Children’s Golden Treasure Book that I prized as a child, and which my mother had cherished before me. I rather suspect that I gazed at the pictures more than I devoured the stories, as she did.

I was under the spell of this Guardian angel from the moment I glimpsed her in Recoleta Cemetery on Tuesday, shining out of the darkening afternoon. Two remarkable reflections: the orange street light giving extra brightness to the angel’s lamp, and the apartments landing under the protection of her wings. I wonder if the occupants of the ordinary-looking block of flats across the street realise they have such an extraordinary being watching over them?