I should say that I don’t know hunger. Hungry, yes, I know that. Hungry like a missed meal; hungry that’s unpleasant, but whose edge is always cut by the knowledge that it won’t last. But hunger as a state of being or as a mindset, in which the next meal is defined not by its contents, but by its uncertainty — no, I don’t know anything about that. Really though, I just don’t know poor.