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The shock of it opened my eyes wide and I turned to James.

“There is another magician,” I whispered to him, “Another one like us, here in the market.”

 
 

Nobody was touching us, regardless of how dense the flow of people became, and regardless of how sometimes, people or wagons were forcing their way in the opposite direction, or trying to hurry through. I wasn’t once brushed by an arm, the hem of a skirt or even a parcel that was being carried, or a load; and I found that absolutely fascinating. James and I were still walking arm in arm and I now tried to direct him a little towards an accident, a brush up with a stranger but it was truly remarkable – somehow, and don’t ask me how, even a drunk old soldier managed to twist himself and his backpack around at the very last moment so even there, this sphere of safety in which we walked stayed absolutely intact.