On imbalance, blindness, and the ethics of excess.
In a world of overproduction, hunger remains not an accident but a contradiction.
Every city hides its paradoxes — abundance piled beside neglect, indulgence beside deprivation.
We speak of progress, yet discard enough daily to feed the same mouths we claim the system cannot reach.
The issue is not scarcity, but sensitivity. The waste is not only material — it is emotional, intellectual, moral. We waste empathy by withholding it from those we deem unworthy. We waste time in comparisons that yield no compassion.
The hungry are not always visible. Some hunger for meaning. Others for peace.
Some, quietly, for the permission to matter.
The psychology of waste is rooted in detachment — when consumption dulls awareness, when convenience replaces conscience. What we throw away says more about us than what we keep.
The Waste and the Hungry is not a sermon; it is a mirror. To look into it is to confront our
civilization’s quiet indifference — and to ask, with uncomfortable honesty, how much
longer we can afford to be so selectively blind.
