Cirrus@Austlit

'As I write this, I am watching you eat a fillet mignon steak out of a piece of roof tile. !e meat has been carved and sauced beside your table, and garlic bu and er is dripping all down your arm into a little makeshift gutter. I'm about halfway through a compilation video on YouTube: 'ONE HOUR of Gordon Ramsay hating on food.' I've seen all these clips before-many times in fact. Every few weeks or so I think about the time you told a chef his fried codfish tasted like "a breaded condom." My memory lately seems so overwhelmed with information and raw data, yet that one sticks. Let's say I'm writing to you today because you and I have been intimate, in a strange way. It's possible I've seen your deeply-wrinkled forehead more than I've seen the faces of some of my dear friends.' (Publication abstract)