Feast of Famine Page 7

The guests looked at each other and recalled the days of their lives when they had walked the city streets eating ice cream in simple rolled cones; days when they had worn aprons saying, "Kiss the Cook" as they fried segments of slaughtered pig over an open fire, sending smudges of greasy fumes into the firmament. They had entered buildings filled hip-deep with fruit and grains and vegetables and legumes and fungi, and they had bought these things and taken them home, never noticing what a famine plenty can disguise.

THE END