There is a particular kind of hunger that doesn't have a name. It's not loneliness exactly. It's not sadness. It's something quieter and more persistent — the feeling that somewhere along the way, you lost access to a part of yourself. The part that feels. The part that moves slowly, that notices texture and temperature, that knows what she wants before the mind has a chance to talk her out of it. Most women know this feeling intimately. And most women have been taught, in on