Nostalgic (and false) alternative*:
To put down roots, to rediscover or fashion your roots, to carve the place that will be yours out of space, and build, plant, appropriate, millimetre by millimetre, your ‘home’: to belong completely in your village, knowing you’re a true inhabitant of the Cévennes, or of Poitou.
Or else to own only the clothes you stand up in, to keep nothing, to live in hotels and change them frequently, and change towns, and change countries; to speak and read any one of four or five languages; to feel at home nowhere, but at ease almost everywhere.
Georges Perec, Species of Spaces (1974)
* To a previous section about the supposed utopian, idyllic lifestyle of living in a French village.
I’ve noted before that this blog now has so much content it’s able to keep on rolling along without me, and more or less regardless of whether…
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