After more than a quarter of a century, I am done, too broken to continue. I've seen all the corners of the world and made more coin than most men see in a lifetime. But it's all gone. Everything beautiful comes to die. I've eaten in every part of the known world and flew in the loneliest air you could imagine. I've seen the mountains. The seas. Even the best of it doesn't give me an ounce of joy. Each year I had less time to go home. My tongue forgot the language of small chatter and those who thought me odd. If I'm jaded and bitter, it's because this world is not where I belong. The world has beaten me.