The living think they know hunger when their stomachs spasm, when their mouths go dry, when they grow weak. But they do not even begin to understand it until they cross over into the land of death. Food will not sate the dead, but they don’t realize it at first. They fill their mouths with rice, yet the hunger grows deeper, opens wider within them. Then they fill their mouths with bread, and the ache grows sharp, as if everything they eat is glass. Finally, they fill their mouths with blood, and at last the pain in their stomachs grows quiet.
