I go about with a fully belly, and yet, the famished still retain all of their attractions, on and on through the years, while I proceed with sadness and decreasing resolve, into a state of confusion. Is it not so that starved animals live longest? I do remember reading a study that said as much, though perhaps it was the work of a joker, of some joker or jokester, who now has had his way with more than a few. Meanwhile, in my pocket, a darker scene transpires: it seems I have crushed the flower I thought I rescued.