Long before hunger lays claim to the body, it loosens the scaffolding of language, erasing clarity, dismantling rhythm, and leaving behind the fragile debris of thought. What begins as a coherent paragraph soon dissolves into fragments, until all that remains is the involuntary tremor of a mind too starved to hold meaning. And so, before my language deserts me entirely, I write this, less to be understood than to remain traceable, to leave behind the shape of thought before it slips into silence.
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