At some point, I will write the history of these days. I don't discuss the specifics of circumstances in these ephemeral jots for many reasons, including lack of context, and discretion as to matters of personal safety. But when I do write it, I must remember that this time wasn't maudlin, or fraught, or emotional. There were simply a few things that had to be gotten through, and also a few things that might be useful if they were done at the time. The difficulty was only in the difficulty of doing specific things, and didn't really have a metaphysical cast to it. Part of this might be the discipline in my approach -- teetotal, of course, never asking for a handout or doing things a 19th c. member of parliament in similar straights wouldn't do. (For example, if there's a night without a place to be gotten through, one sits up straight on a parkbench rather than stretching out on the sidewalk. Decorum has a modal aspect.)
Today:a bit unsteady, likely ultimately due to the physical realities, so some background reading for the project, and trying to drum up a bit more trireme business through the transom.
At one point, one of the biographies of Peirce said something along the lines of 'being completely clueless about the social forces aligned against him in the academy, he invested some time in seeking an academic position.' Wry smile. But the shift of the last six months or so is the realization that I will have to be prepared to make the work outside the walls, extra muros. Navalny must have realized that he would need to put everything in his journals, as his autobiography, written after his fortunes reversed and he held office for some years, might prove... speculative.
Solzhenitsyn's First Circle (the TV version, which he narrates, is also worthwhile) was just outside the capital, as I recall. Surrounded by comfort and idleness, a life, or a small number of lives, of rather extraordinary difficulty. Find the strangeness in that, or you'll be wallowing in the maudlin.