Oh hello Lest we forget the year my family discovered I liked cooking and the only gifts I received were cookbooks, cooking magazines (“Yummy!”, “Gluttony” and “What Not To Eat”) and cooking tools like a special fork for stirring spaghetti, a knife that cored an apple as it sliced and, my favourite, a spoon that had a magnetic attraction to egg shells, revolutionising their fishing out. As an 11 year old, gifts stacked on my lap on Christmas Day, I felt seen but also scrutinised, watched, like an ant that I might try and burn with a magnifying glass sitting on the roof. I felt perceived too much and too obviously.
The Long Form and Two Friends
The Long Form and Two Friends
The Long Form and Two Friends
Oh hello Lest we forget the year my family discovered I liked cooking and the only gifts I received were cookbooks, cooking magazines (“Yummy!”, “Gluttony” and “What Not To Eat”) and cooking tools like a special fork for stirring spaghetti, a knife that cored an apple as it sliced and, my favourite, a spoon that had a magnetic attraction to egg shells, revolutionising their fishing out. As an 11 year old, gifts stacked on my lap on Christmas Day, I felt seen but also scrutinised, watched, like an ant that I might try and burn with a magnifying glass sitting on the roof. I felt perceived too much and too obviously.