Eleven years later, this tastes just as good.

People who travel widely and live abroad from a younger age are typically ruined. Once their eyes have been refocused, they find themselves irretrievably misplaced between two worlds: the clomped earth that was laid by their predecessors via the birth-work-death cycle, and the other one revealing that life beyond your backyard is nothing like the generalizations that their social circle accepts as gospel.

 Which ultimately leads to this quandary:

Where do we stop ourselves once the time comes to run out of energy? Can we continue to exist in this sort of limbo, straddling two worlds? 

I think I know the answer for the first question, but I also think that I might be permanently out of place. You get inducted into a sort of misfit community from the time your passport is stamped forward. But maybe that’s just me. After all, I am scribbling this entry on the back of a crossword as my plane is on final approach into Dublin.

This pizza came a few days later, and I no longer felt out of place.