He’d kicked out at first, working determinedly in what he thought was one direction, soon realising that he had no idea if he was travelling in straight lines or circles. The panic gripped him then, causing him to thrash out, flailing wildly. Trying desperately not to fall the great depth to the ocean floor that called to him from many miles below.

He had blacked out then, in the heat of the day, the sun and salt burning and scraping at his flesh. He dreamed of land – running through fields of barley on a foggy autumn day, the sound of birdsong, leaves rustling on the trees – the wholesome sound of a land beneath his feet.

When he awoke that night, the dark water seemed like liquid metal around him, blue-black and shiny. Almost tangible enough to walk on, all the way home. He lay on his back and stared at the sky, small specks of light shining back at him out of the milky stain spilled across the heavens. Only now did infinity reveal itself to him.