In conversations, I play along. I talk about how excited I am about returning to live music; I say that I can’t wait to be back in the opera house, for “real” cultural life to start again. I rhapsodise about buzzing foyers and hushed halls, long symphonies and short intervals, hard seats and whole choruses singing softly. But the truth is I’m terrified.

Any performance space – whether that’s a gallery, theatre, concert hall or cinema – is an enchanted place, a place of transformation: somewhere illusions are created and stripped away. The person who arrives isn’t the same one who leaves afterwards. To return is to open yourself up to change and, crucially, catharsis.