The boy slips off the arm of the chair and cracks his head on the wooden floor. Pain consumes him and his searing cry is genuine, this time. His father rushes to pick him up, holding him tight before setting him down in the chair, but he is surprised to see the boy’s face has transformed from pain to disgust. After a moment, he realises it is the same look he gave his own father. It is one of contempt for being old, for decaying, for not being the superhero he has assumed his father will always be, for being just like all the others; and with the realisation comes the memory of his own father consoling him after a fall in the garden and the years fall away like petals and he yearns for one more day with his father, to tell him it doesn’t matter, that his weaknesses and fears made him human, that although the tearing down of the edifice is a stark, traumatic moment, it is the path towards knowledge and truth.