I had got myself into a bit of a 4 to 6pm rut with my trips to Recoleta Cemetery, so last week I decided to pay a morning visit. After all, they do say to vary your routine to stimulate your brain. I had forgotten how fascinating it is to see the cemetery alive with caretakers cleaning the tombs. The place is transformed into a giant outdoor hotel, complete with the occasional chambermaid-style cart. The air was streaked with the scent of furniture polish, feather dusters appeared at every turn and a stained glass panel was getting a good wash beneath an outdoor tap.

With fresh eyes, I discovered this sculpture towards the back of the cemetery, on a street I have scoured many a time. How can I have not noticed her before? She merges so effortlessly with the cherub-decorated exterior across the street, the back-to-front words spilling out of her prayerful hands as if she is sharing an incantation. Her lower part fades before me like a flickering movie reel, giving the illusion that she is quite possibly the Ghost of an angel.