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 ‘So I turned around for an instant to look at what my field of vision onto the sea had not offered up: the heavy grey mass where traces of planks lined up along the inclined ramp like a tiny staircase I got up and decided to have a look around this fortification as if I had seen it for the first time, with its embrasure flush with the sand, behind the protective screen, looking out onto the Breton port, aiming today at inoffensive bathers, its rear defence with a staggered entrance and its dark interior in the blinding light of the gun’s opening toward the sea’ – Paul Virilio, Bunker Archaeology   It is October 2010 and I am in the kitchen of an old house in Sussex From the kitchen, a door leads to the hallway Suddenly the door begins to sway from side to side At first, I think nothing of it and put it down to a breeze from another room But then the swaying became more deliberate, as if a presence were trying to communicate from afar The door moves to one end, pauses for a second, and then proceeds to return to the other side To and fro it moves, until suddenly, and without warning, it stops As I stand to investigate, an iridescent light fills the hallway, and a tall silhouette clad in black slowly crosses the landing before disappearing into the brick wall In response, the skin on my body becomes clammy with anxiety, while the hairs beginning at the base of my head and extending to the lower reach of my neck recoil, as if they had grasped some kind of horror that I was still in the process of experiencing One minute later, I am on the street Disturbed by the vision, I look at the house from the vantage point of the outside If the figure has come to me in a moment of private intimacy, then I am sure it would not follow me down the stairs and onto the other side of the street, and thereby expose