There is a hidden sweetness in the stomach’s emptiness. We are lutes, no more, no less. If the soundbox is stuffed full of anything, no music comes. But if brain and belly are burning clean with fasting, every moment a new song comes out of the fire.

The fog clears and new energy makes you run up the steps in front of you. Be emptier, and cry like reed instruments cry. Emptier, write secrets with the reed pen.

When you are full of food and drink, an ugly metal status sits where your spirit should. When you fast, good habits gather like friends who want to help. Fasting is Solomon’s ring. Don’t give it to some illusion and lose your power, but even if you have, if you have lost all will and control, they come back when you fast, like soldiers, appearing out of the ground, pennants flying above them.
A table descends to your tents, Jesus’ table. Expect to see it when you fast, this table spread with other food, better than the broth of cabbages.