Crust

I have the urge to tuck into a lovely thin-crust pizza with just enough tomato and cheese on top to make it recognizably one, and a few mushrooms, some tiny slices of red-hot chilli, perhaps a couple of other things but not too many of those. They make a mean one at the pizzeria down the road from my house, and picking one up after a short phone call and a ten-minute wait is one of the pleasures of my simple life.

I know I don't really have as simple a life as I might, had I pursued simplicity of life with greater determination. But I am quite certain that simplicity is partly a state of mind; something like having many degrees of freedom, and thus many possibilities for complicated interaction with other particles, and yet remaining relatively free of such.

It's all about what beliefs you recognize as extraneous to your self. Some might argue that you can't divide what you believe from what it is necessary to believe in order to be you. But plainly, that is circular logic, predicated on a certain concept of self. It is one of those beliefs you can recognize as extraneous to self.

What's tough is the crust, that developed glutenin-gliadin complex which you build up over the years to trap the bubbles of your thought into a risen dough.