There’s a place in my head. I’m standing on grass at the top of a cliff looking out over the sea. The sea is flat, there’s a breeze, and the sun is shining back at me, reflecting down all over the sea. It’s midday. The sun is warm but the air is cool: I’m wearing my hat, but not my coat, just a hoody, a bright one. It’s some time just a little bit either side of winter. The place had a name but I don’t remember it. The place appeared in my head from a stop-smoking CD and it came back the other day while I was lying in hospital with a tap in my arm. I want to find the place. Maybe every time I point a camera at the sun I’m trying to make a picture of the place. It’s a south coast and the edge of the coast is pretty straight east-west, no bays or nothing. I want to find the place. I lost the CD so I can’t recreate it that way. It’s obviously a south coast. It’s in England and the cliff is pretty straight east-west, no bays. I think maybe it’s east of the Isle of Wight but I’ve never been there so I can’t know.