Limos had, according to Ovid, rather let herself go. With sagging, withered breasts, an empty space for a stomach, exposed rotten bowels, sunken eyes, crusted lips, scaly skin, lank, scurfy hair, and swollen pustular ankles, the figure and face of Famine presented a haunting and dreadful spectacle. She stole that night into Erysichthon’s bedroom, took the sleeping king in her arms, and breathed her foul breath into him. Her poison fumes seeped into his mouth, throat, and lungs. Through his veins and into every cell of his body slid the terrible, insatiable worm of hunger.
