Where it comes from, what it does to you, and why the same meal costs wildly different amounts depending on who made it.
Hold a slice of bread up to a window. It's full of holes. Something living blew every single one of them — and then the oven killed it.
Growing a strawberry is the cheap part. Picking it, chilling it and getting it to you in one piece costs more than twice as much — and in January it hasn't even been grown anywhere near you.
A whole onion can sit on the counter all day and nobody cries. Cut it once and the room fills with people rubbing their eyes. Whatever it is, the onion was not holding it — the onion built it on the spot.
Eat something fiery and your mouth reports an emergency. Put a thermometer in there and the temperature hasn't moved. Nothing is hot. Nothing is being damaged. So what exactly is screaming?
Crack an egg and you get something clear and runny. Heat it and you get something white and solid. You added nothing, you took nothing away — and you can never, ever go back.
Two tubs, same shelf, same size, same shape. Pick them both up and one is nearly twice the weight of the other. Nothing is missing from the light one. It is full to the lid — of ice cream and of air.
A popcorn kernel is a tiny hard seed. Then it goes BANG and turns into a big white cloud. Where did the cloud come from?