← The Collection
  • These Hands

    4 min

  • Architect As

    4 min

  • Slow Dancing in the Dark

    1 min

  • Life at Full Swing

    6 min

  • The Garden Maze

    4 min

  • Silver Bullet

    6 min

  • Strawberry Fields for a while

    5 min

  • Malta's Most Obvious Problem

    6 min

  • Coastal Parking

    7 min

  • Something to Chew On

    4 min

  • Dear Decision Maker

    3 min

  • The Chairs

    3 min

Life at Full Swing

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6 min

The leaves rustled, growing louder as the wind picked up. I opened my eyes. The faint, bright light-blue hue above me was interrupted by the leaves. They came close to my eyes. They were short in comparison to the large palm trees. My breathing was slow, my body relaxed, and my limbs stretched out on the padded mattress. I got up slowly.

The grass tickled my feet. Moving the sunbed aside, long, uncut grass appeared beneath each bed, leaving a higher rectangle of grass where it had once stood uncovered. A cat slowly rolled in the long grass.


* * *


We were invited to stay at an American franchise resort. Its grounds were as expansive as they were luxurious. Inquiring about the two apartment blocks on either side of the stepped hotel block, the concierge clarified that they were residential blocks, part of the hotel, and soon to be completed.

Driving through the bare, hilly Mediterranean landscape, our taxi driver pointed at the coast revealing itself to us. Rows of high-rises pierced the skyline with no apparent style or regularity.

“All of them in the last few years. Only this one is older,” he said, pointing at a semi-circular building mimicking an older style.

Dubai mock-up of ______.

Arriving at the coast, each high-rise–skyscraper hybrid became more apparent. The buildings looked new, in a style I could not quite compartmentalise.

“Limassol’s skyline features distinct contemporary and avant-garde architectural styles that emphasise luxury and modern integration,” Google AI highlighted.

A list of styles ensued:

  • Parametricism & Biomorphic Design
  • High-Tech Structural Expressionism
  • Tropical Modernism
  • Resort Architecture

The conception of each building did not look as avant-garde as the impressive text-based styles suggested.

The representation of these styles took the form of agile exaggerated cantilevers, or vertical, tectonic-like facades, all clad in similar white materials. Between each high-rise, low-storey, modernist beach houses lined the edge of the streets. Narrow concrete pavements, interrupted by marble stairs, led to the “Ritz Carlton Residences”.

I had recognised the Ritz from a sun-bleached billboard on our drive. This was one of many billboards portraying a render of an upcoming resort architecture development. Renders made up half of the billboard, the other half portraying the name, logo, and contact information to “live lavishly”. Names were often derived by compounding a place, say “Limassol”, with an adjective, say “Greens”.

In fact, the “Limassol Greens” development was the reason for our visit. I was a guest’s guest of a small consortium of foreign developers.

The project was located on the further tip of the coast. It incorporated a series of housing complexes, with permutations of luxury apartments, villas, bungalows, or townhouses for sale. The backgardens of these properties formed an expansive, professional golf course.

#LifeAtFullSwing was the tagline of the development. The extent of the golf course bordered a British cemetery and the set-up military base. This evening, we would celebrate the opening of the golf course and clubhouse.

“Out of the many luxury developments I have designed across the globe, this one surely will remain in my memory,” the architect expressed, his fists waving in the air on the massive LED screen.

“I will always remember the first day, looking out at the marshland from the water tower, how far we have come!” He went on to thank the Minister and clients for their support throughout the pandemic, crisis, and war outbreak over the last decade, and his uncontrolled free licence to create.

The Minister and Director of the estate stood proudly on the stage, applauding the architect.

The stage was centrally placed on the freshly mowed golf course. A large wall of speakers and dancing spotlights entertained some two hundred guests seated on circular tables across the golf course.

The assorted flowers on each table complemented the purple-orange sunset settling over the golf course.

The stage lights grew brighter, illuminating the outdoor reception and bouncing off the reinforced glass staircase.

Looking out beyond the hilly, luscious green golf-course estate was a perimeter bound with large, mature eucalyptus trees.

We took the long, straight cypress-tree road to get to the estate, passing several derelict sheds. A group of young men sat outside a rusted shed amongst a pile of antique furniture, watching the convoy of SUVs and e-class sedans entering the premises.

Taking a left turning, Mercedes proudly welcomed you to “Limassol Greens”.

The cobblestone paving led us to the entrance, with small bushes and trees planted along the pavement edges. At the door, women dressed in yellow and orange overalls, with large hats mimicking flower petals, danced.

Five flags proudly represented the Cypriot investors (50%), the Maltese (47%), and the Welsh (3%), the other two portraying the Mercedes logo.

“You have to be based in London,” expressed the luxury architect. An investor had introduced me, eager for me to engage in a mutual architectural discourse.

He stood tall, wearing a long black suit.

“Everything happens there,” he continued, after I inquired as to how such work is commissioned.

“Yes, the golf course dominates the landscape, but it is not about golf. It is about creating a sense of ownership for the residents, between their doors, front gardens, and the landscape. It is about feeling part of a community, living everyday life in luxury, not about a sport.”

The wagyu beef slider proved too oily, soaking through the thin napkin and onto my hands.

“Where are you from?” asked a large man, who revealed his Russian identity moments later. He was hunched over the sink, water flowing over his hands throughout the duration of the conversation.

“You play golf?” the big Russian man asked.

“I don’t,” he exclaimed in a deep voice, answering his own question.

“I bought seven villas here. Now, I just need to learn to play. That’s my next endeavour for the next six months.”

Exhausted, I walked up the stairs of the clubhouse to the main entrance. Looking out of the large floor-to-ceiling window, the orange sky was replaced by an impressive display of choreographed drones, outlining golf balls, the border of the island of Cyprus, and spelling #LifeAtFullSwing.

The singer had made their way down the stage and begun engaging with the stakeholders.

I stepped outside and called for a cab, while messaging the guest I was with of my departure.