It is a little after noon, or almost dark, somewhere between Tokyo and Miami. The pool is still. A car is parked where somebody left it. Across the water stands a city you half recognise. Nobody is home. And one thing in the picture cannot be there: a door onto another hour, a moon far too large, fish going past the towers. It doesn't explain itself.

With love and thanks to Hiroshi Nagai. The blue, the ruler-straight horizon and the hard shadows are his, borrowed gladly. None of his paintings is copied. The things that can't be there tip their hat to Magritte, de Chirico, Dalí and Man Ray.