The photo was all wrong, thought Richardson. It didn't look like that at all. It was if it had dressed up to go trick-or-treating, wrapped in wool and flannel and a down jacket because the temperature had dropped and oh dear the sun was setting, he'll catch his death of cold.

To make matters worse, the angle was completely unnatural. It veered to the Southwest, not the Northeast, a deep sea diver, not a space explorer.

What it resembled was a little piece of chalk, chalk that probed every nook and cranny, tore it wide open, changing its lines, its shape, its structure.

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