I couldn’t picture the dead anywhere besides the grave. What do they do, get together underground and play cards? If so, how could they be dead? What form do they take? At the time I couldn’t imagine a place that wasn’t physical. The most extreme form of fantasy, as far as I was concerned at the time, was the idea of America. I knew the place existed somewhere, and I also knew that it was impossible for me to get there because I would have to fly. Flying was also in the realm of fantasy. Since then, of course, I have flown many times to a number of countries.

Karcsi threw the rest of the pie away. He would always just eat the middle, where most of the marmalade was.

‘My dad used to say that life was like a school. It trains us for what comes after life.’

My face was a question mark. Karcsi rolled his eyes.

‘Life prepares us for death. Death comes after life. But Dad said that death was also a sort of life, only different.’

I shook my head.

‘Death can’t be like life. Then it wouldn’t be death, would it?’

‘Dad said we only call it death because we don’t know what’s on the other side. But there is something, there must be, and here in this life we’re getting ready for that life. That’s why life is like a school.’

‘All right. But how do we get prepared?’

‘By living, I guess.’

I took a bite from the next pie, because I didn’t understand any of this. I tried to fake the expression of someone pondering over very deep issues, and I kept chewing. The pie was really good. Karcsi went on.

‘On the other side they’re preparing too, because they’re about to come here. Come here to live. Father thinks that when you’re born, that’s when you come over here from that other school. And in order to be born here, you have to die there.’

This totally confused me.

‘What other school?’

‘Well . . . the one where the dead are, and those who aren’t born yet. Our world is the noon school, theirs is the midnight school, that’s how Dad explained it.’

‘Midnight school?’

‘Yeah. Only they prepare for life by being dead. And they come across from under the earth. To live. That’s how they’re born here. In the crops.’

I shrugged, I didn’t want to argue about it. Crops are just crops, they’re neither alive nor dead. They’re matter that turns into a different kind of matter, just as fruits are turned into jam.