A boy would wake up every morning hungry
As if during the night his insides fed on themselves and needed more.
“I could eat a horse!” he said, but nobody believed him
Until he did. And then it was a tree. And a skyscraper. And the boy’s mother who at first smiled and called him her growing boy
became frightened because his appetite didn’t run in the blood, she kept him in the house                                                        
and­ she didn’t understand when he said “I want to know the world” or the way he begged her for just a bite of mountain or even a metro station. Brick sandwich.
“I could eat the moon” he would say. He will never eat the moon. Not because he doesn’t love it
There is only one, he says, and he will not long for it anymore after it is inside of him, and the longing is part of knowing.