Early on the morning of 8 June 2018, I woke up and checked my phone.
“Anthony Bourdain dead at age 61.” The words filled post after post in my newsfeeds, and while still in bed next to my then-boyfriend I barely whispered “Oh my god. Bourdain is dead”. Normally a heavy sleeper and generally ambivalent to my interests, my bf woke right up and asked “are you ok?”
I don’t know if I am, still. I only met him briefly, a starstruck fangirl on a drunken SXSW evening whom I’m…