‘None of this is real,’ he said. ‘Didn’t you know that? Did nobody ever tell you?’

‘They told me other things,’ I said. ‘Stories and rules. But not that. These trees, and the sky: they’re real, aren’t they?’

‘None of it. All of it doesn’t exist. It’s a confection; as real as a puff of dragon’s breath.’

‘But dragon’s breathe,’ I said. ‘And I exist. My skin is warm.’ I took his hand, and placed it onto my bare chest. ‘ Where I touch myself, here. There’s life beneath my fingers. Can you feel it?’

‘It’s illusory. All of it. You’re nothing at all.’ He took his hand away. ‘Nothing at all. Isn’t that a wonderful thing to know?’