We thought of the worst things we could think of, the saddest memories — we were desperate and starving and needed three-quarters of a cup of water. That was the most melancholy meal we’d ever eaten — it held all the heartaches of our lives, friends lost to the war, nights of sleeplessness and cold and hunger. We cried for hours before there was enough water. We were thankful for the meal, though the sadness we’d poured out of ourselves we took back in with eating. We experienced our grief in a new way – between our teeth, on our tongues, in our bellies. We were full. Our sadness was complete.

~ found piece of stream-of-consciousness writing from a journal circa early 2000s