Empty pots, sacks of snacks laid empty. Not even a crumb for a visiting critter: Mice Need Not Apply. This is the world in famine. When agriculture production stops. Her pregnant belly rumbles, a panicked breath escapes her lips as the baby kicks. Also angered, also frustrated. This gift is now becoming burdensome. Virgin Mary 2.0. There is a sepia-hued black and white mist that covers everything; Ash raining down during volcanic explosions. She’s tried to stomach the worms and grubs, but cannot, regurgitating them every time. No wheat, no flour, no bacon, no warm meal. Soup has become a watery mystery best not explored. The people are getting restless. The dusty fields cannot give to it’s people anymore. Sky overcast and grey for months and months. No sunshine, sparse rain. Unanswered prayers flung up to heaven like desperate fishing lines cast into empty ocean waters. Our pregnant protagonist feels seasick.