"No. Saul was the golden boy." Knowing what he knows now, he wonders if his parents would've taken the offer to sell their unexpected child.

"A lot of things slowly happened, including a pretty crippling heroin addiction which both dulled down the flashes and made them way more intense at the same time. Blackouts, but I'd wake up have done really specific, complex paintings. I've been clean for two months now, after I did a series of paintings that scared the hell out of me. The paintings have been destroyed, but I have photos."

He dug out the photos. Actual print photos, the only copies. Nothing digital. "I recognised her. From her book. So I got clean and then I came here."

He slides over the pictures. The White Violin, her brothers sprawled in the air around her in agony, her face slack and empty of emotion. Then the gunshot, the beam of light and the moon fracturing apart, a meteor storm that would wipe out most life on the planet.