Well, similarly then, I put it to you, there’s no mystery about what it’s like to be dead. It isn’t like anything. What I don’t mean, “Oh, it’s like something, but different from everything else.” I mean, there is nothing there to describe. When you’re dead, there’s nothing happening on the inside to be imagined. Well, should we conclude therefore, given that we’ve got the premise, “If you can’t picture it or imagine it, then you can’t believe in it,” since I’ve just said, look, you can’t imagine being dead, but that’s not due to any failure of imagination, that’s because there’s nothing there to imagine or picture.