Sitting in a bar I feel exhausted, my body a bag of bones held together by sheer concentration and expectation. It is now only one week until I have a well earned break. In between soft moments of comfort and relaxation – holding on for the remaining seven days – I conceive an idea, to follow the rim of the Caspian Sea and navigate that which ten years prior I made the home of a schizophrenic architectural project; socially aware at heart, political at it’s core, a comment on the redundancy of contemporary urban planning and a romantic gesture made from above a North London Meat shop.