My father, … [a quote from an Enrique Vila-Matas story, “A Permanent Home,” trans. Margaret Jull Costa]

… who had once believed in many, many things only to end up distrusting all of them, was leaving me with a unique, definitive faith: that of believing in a fiction that one knows to be a fiction, aware that this is all that exists, and that the exquisite truth consists in knowing that it is a fiction, and that, nevertheless, one should believe in it.