I poured my heart into **Gluttony — The Maw**.  
It’s not just art—it’s a pull toward something deeper.  
Each token is a whisper of hunger we rarely name.  
Old stories meet digital decay, and the screen becomes a quiet ritual.

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## The Seven Hungers

| Hunger | Murmur |
|--------|--------|
| **Crimson Hunger** | Fire in the chest, a heartbeat that cannot rest. |
| **Abyssal Maw** | Endless falling; the grasp that never fills. |
| **Verdant Crave** | Slow, wild roots that want to own the earth. |
| **Ashen Gnaw** | Chewing on dust, yet still moving. |
| **Luminous Want** | Reaching for stars that cut as they flee. |
| **Sable Thirst** | Heavy waves pulling thought and light below. |
| **Ivory Fang** | A pure slice of need, singing its own echo. |

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## The Stories We Carry

These hungers are universal—  
gods whispering through time, blended with the noise of scrolling feeds.  
We chase impossible things, then wonder what’s missing.  
This project is a mirror: **what’s eating you?**  
**What are you feeding?**

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## The Ritual

Minting a piece of *Gluttony — The Maw* is a small ceremony.  
You don’t quench the hunger—you face it.  
Hold it only if the vortex calls.  
Not to own, but to feel its weight.

*Even in silence, the hunger hums.*

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