Tropic of cancer - Henry Miller 3

To be food starved.


"Dropped in at the Cronstadts’ and they were eating too.
A young chicken with wild rice. Pretended that I had eaten
already, but I could have torn the chicken from the baby’s
hands. This is not just false modesty – it’s a kind of
perversion, I’m thinking. Twice they asked me if I wouldn’t
join them. No! No! Wouldn’t even accept a cup of coffee
after the meal. I’m delicat, I am! On the way out I cast a
lingering glance at the bones lying on the baby’s plate –
there was still meat on them."

"High noon and here I am standing on an empty belly at
the confluence of all these crooked lanes that reek with the
odor of food."