It’s not uncommon to see the thinnest people moving about in twos and threes , sometimes whole families , bound together by ropes and chains , to ballast one another against the blasts . Others give up trying to go out altogether , hugging to the doorways and alcoves , until even the fairest sky seems a threat . Better to wait quietly in their corner , they think , than to be dashed against the stones . It is also possible to become so good at not eating that eventually you can eat nothing at all . It is even worse for the ones who fight their hunger .
Thinking about food too much can only lead to trouble . These are the ones who are obsessed , who refuse to give in to the facts . They prowl the streets at all hours , scavenging for morsels , taking enormous risks for even the smallest crumb . No matter how much they are able to find , it will never be enough .
They eat without ever filling themselves , tearing into their food with animal haste , their bony fingers picking , their quivering jaws never shut . Most of it dribbles down their chins , and what they manage to swallow , they usually throw up again in a few minutes . It is a slow death , as if food were a fire , a madness , burning them up from within . They think they are eating to stay alive , but in the end they are the ones who are eaten" .
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Paul Auster
