“It’s a long way. You’re thin, boy.”
“Food doesn’t nourish me. Men cannot live on bread only, not even brown bread made at home.”
“No.”
“Now in the moon, perhaps, I should get fat.”
“Perhaps indeed, and I too. But look at the moon. You give me the horrors. You couldn’t live there.”
It was a thin three-quarters of a circle in a hot sky.
“But,” I said, “I should like to try.”
“Would you?”
“Yes, provided I were someone different. For, as for me, this is no doubt the best of all possible worlds.”