Even I think it looks as if there’s been some hocus-pocusing to get this montage effect, but no. The building, the cross and the lifelike stained-glass boy converged in a moment, my camera the magnet. The top of the reflected mausoleum conjures up classical temples, and the window’s Greek key border presses the point. The cross is confident, splitting its way through the arch to other realms. Ancient, timeless, this is a Collage of the past.

Speaking of which, I have long been a fan of collage and have been known to dig out a pile of old magazines of an afternoon and get tearing and gluing. It’s liberating to let myself choose the images that draw me, without censoring – working quickly and making sure that my hands move faster than my brain. There is a bliss in being absorbed in the process, not knowing what the (often revealing) outcome will be.

Something similar happens when I meander around Recoleta Cemetery. I walk and search and capture what I see, allowing myself to be led. It’s like entering a different reality, in which all else disappears. There is just me and my camera and the tombs with their stories to tell. This is when the magic ensues.