A walk into the midday heat of the hills outside Toledo, May’95.

Follow the lane with gaze fixed on the townscape to the left, trying to pinpoint the ultimate vista. The Alcazar crowns the skyline; pantile roofs tumble down. I was thinking of El Greco. I was also thinking… ‘I’ll remember this moment for the rest of my life’.

This is not Toledo at all, of course. It is a fantasy landscape, full of anomalies and architectural curios, plundered from any number of remembered elsewheres, and concocted in the weeks afterwards. If I remember the moment, I remember it largely via this diversion.

[One fragment from a Loft Clearance project, now framed-up to fuel the imagination of a boy on his 12th birthday.]