Hunger, I think - leaves one with a pressing, gnawing feeling of restlessness. Nothing - or at least few things - can stop the creeping sensation that something is missing. My mind wanders, my eyesight goes unfocused, my brain is even more distant than usual - and I'd be satisfied eating just about anything. Candlewax, tea leaves, glue, paper - bits of wood, or maybe napkins. That's what my diet would consist of if I got locked in here. That's what I'm considering to eat right now.
The two most satisfying and delicious meals I've ever had have been those random late-night occurances when food have suddenly been presented to me unexpectedly and when I have not been able to fully realize exactly how hungry I was before I saw food. And actually both times it's been pizza. The first time was years ago when out partying with my sister in Bergen and someone behind the bar made frozen-pizzas and I was given a slice. It was a kind of sensation i have later been troubled to recollect at all. All I know is that it was wonderful. The second time was two weeks ago in a hostel bed in Germany when around midnight I split the best pizza I've ever had, with twice as much cheese as necessary - but with twice the delight.
In the end I often suspect that the media can make us want to remember less perfect moments though with more romantic credibility and forget the ones that truly leave an impression. Like in books and in movies the clichéed situations, the expensive ones gets highlighted, while the quirky situations are left unnoticed and without memory. What truly beats the romance in sharing a double mozzarella pizza on a beer infused double bed in a cold, smelly boys room late at night on a schooltrip to Germany? Watching the boats in the cold and dark at Aker Brygge during the autumn? Lying on a green sofa in the basement, listening to the same Mark Foster song over and over? Eating too much sweets - until our tummies ache and watch ridiculous machinima till late at night?
To me, I think... Nothing.