Les récits à la première personne me donnent envie de vomir ! 

The jasmine bush full of bees purrs. I am served scallops and strawberries. I am served white asparagus in its vinegary sauce. The light white wine glitters on my lips. I am certain I am beautiful! I’ve decided not to have children, I tell her in bed, because they’re too expensive and I’m too greedy; I want to keep any money I get from my experimental writing career for myself. A lime-green butterfly swirls past her shoulder.
— Excerpt from “Four Conceptual Frames”