The very definition of the real becomes: that of which it is possible to give an equivalent reproduction... The real is not only what can be reproduced, but that which is always already reproduced.
To me, you are still nothing more than a little boy who is just like a hundred thousand other little boys. And I have no need of you. And you, on your part, have no need of me. To you, I am nothing more than a fox like a hundred thousand other foxes.