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Eating Hands

It was still bright and dinner was ready. Placed and looked, they felt the measurement of worth in the autonomous pasta lines and the unexpected melon pinks. Food moved around as much as eaten, the lack of laughter and music gained weight. It had a meaning and a strange peace. It was a good beginning of giving up, in, down. Which way does food go? Grows up, goes down. The group ate and exchanged last wishes, each one turned out to be something they once had. They wished a past. As the food settled in stomachs’ ground, they continued to exchange wishes. Messages formed silently in each one’s internal spaces. A final message, received clearly, without knowing everyone knew, this was the last need for outside bodies, for fuel, they were about to start a new existence of self reliance. It would work first of all by the eating of air, shed skin and eventually any unwanted limbs. Those who internalise with disinterest will do well.