Cirrus@Austlit

'I’m walking down the street with Gay, a friend who often theorises then says, ‘Don’t you think?’, so I have to listen closely. We’re on a psychogeographic walk with thirteen strangers, all bonded together through reading and this small regional writers’ festival. Everyone’s enjoying themselves, might be the weather because, indeed, it is a beautiful day, but Gay and I think this session’s lacking. A man takes us around corners into car parks and alleyways to show us ghost signs— words on buildings that once spoke with bold and solid strokes but have since been painted over, and because that painting-over has itself faded, the original signs are showing through once again. Though barely. Almost invisibly. I love the concept but our guide is failing it. He’s left out the stories behind the words.' (Introduction)