‘More tangible?’ Herbert asked, taking hold of the smoke.
‘Less complicated,’ Derek told him. ‘Like a painting that you’ve stepped clear of . . . It’s when you come back and interact with the world up close that you find your threads have come undone. And of course there’s lots of people around in the painting with their threads going in all sorts of directions as well so the whole thing becomes a right jumble, and the only thread that makes sense is the one that takes you back out to sea again. Then sometimes even that thread can sod off and leave you dangling . . .’
‘It’s not an encouraging thought.’
‘Perhaps not, but nonetheless. Regardless, do you think that I would have traded any of it? Even though it’s lost to me, perhaps especially because it’s lost to me, I would not. So don’t
