“‘Behind Dilapidated Doors Lies a Secret Prague,’” says Oz. “This is the title of the article. Very provocative.”

“Secret Prague?”

“Old buildings,” says Oz. “The artists of Prague are taking over abandoned factories, electrical substations, military barracks. Quite exciting.”

“If you’re a Prague artist.”

“Exactly,” says Oz. “But not so exciting if you’re a tourist. Tourists like to go to the places other tourists go. The Eiffel Tower. Piccadilly Circus. The Great Wall of China. Disney World. Then when tourists talk to each other, they have much in common.”

Oz closes his eyes and leans back in the chair.

“Of course, many tourists do not want to be tourists. They wish to slip away and find the hidden gems.” Oz closes his eyes. “But this is not practical. I have a friend who went to Bottovo. With whom can he share this experience?”

“So, these places in Prague are . . . dangerous?”

“Paris is dangerous. Berlin is dangerous. Naples is very dangerous. Artists are always dangerous.”

“Metaphorically speaking.”

“This is why we kill artists before we kill lawyers.”

“So we should stay on the Charles Bridge?”

“Only if you are tourists.” Oz takes out his cellphone and taps the screen. “Your last story was to be in three parts. About the social-service system in Canada and how it took Indian children away from their parents.”

I turn the globe so I can see Japan.

“But only the first part was published.”

I’m surprised just how long and thin the country is.

“And now you are hiding in Prague.”

“I’m on vacation.”

“But your home is Canada. At some point, you will have to go home.”

“Probably.”

“And then what will you do?”

This is the question Mimi has asked me any number of times.

“If you don’t write, what will you do?”

I could feel myself being backed into a corner. “What about you?”

Oz put a hand to his chest. “Me?”

“Sure,” I say, coming off the ropes. “Who are you? What are you doing in Prague? And this game. Bears and Bees. If the Bears always win, what’s the point of playing?”

Oz stops fiddling with the globe. “Is this an interview? Am I to be a story?”

Sitting in the breakfast room, arguing with Oz, is not what I should be doing.

“How exciting.”

I should be gathering food and taking it to Mimi.

“You will ask questions, and I will answer them, yes or no. Later, you can take my picture.”

“This isn’t an interview.”

“Sometimes, when we ask questions about others,” says Oz, “we reveal something about ourselves.”

“And I’m not doing a story.”

“Of course, the problem with questions,” Oz says with a smile, “is that we often ask the wrong ones.”