before no exit, before being and nothingness, there were sartre’s existential adventures in cooking. this long lost diary was found in between the cushions of an office couch (actually it was written by a guy named marty smith in 1987). one passage dated october 4th goes as follows: “still working on the omelet. there have been stumbling blocks. i keep creating omelets one after another, like soldiers marching into the sea, but each one seems empty, hollow, like stone. i want to create an omelet that expresses the meaninglessness of existence, and instead they taste like cheese. i look at them on the plate, but they do not look back. tried eating them with the lights off. it did not help. malraux suggested paprika.”