Cirrus@Austlit

'There are no working clocks left in Shoalwrest. On the seventh day after the last person leaves, you go around with a hammer and smash all those ticking glass interfaces in hopes that the retreat of the estuary shoreline will stop. By now, the cars and kookaburras have all left, and even Sapphie has stopped coming back to visit. You don't think you've heard your own name in months...'(Introduction)

'A black bust of Beethoven sits atop the piano in my grandmother's home. On weekend visits as a young child, I would practice my scales under his stern gaze. The furrowed brows and unruly hair held the suggestion that this w as a man I would never impress, no matter how hard I practised or improved. Week after week, my fingers would run up and down the piano - strong, sure and mechanical.'(Introduction)

'In every piece of writing, I am always looking for that moment that forces me to put the words down, close my eyes and take a deep breath. A single moment of reflection that allows me to appreciate what the author is saying, but also why they are saying it. In Eda Gunaydin's 'Root and Branch', I found that moment in the essay titled 'Kalitsal'.' (Introduction)