A steady stream of unprompted memories from the travels (qua exile) of the last few years. Given the present lack of a proper situation, and consequent pressures, it seems that I only am living in these memories.
An illusion, of course. I felt the inconveniences of exile and bare-bones life in southern Europe keenly. And I am managing to do some proper work now (when not blogging). But an illusion is an appearance, and an appearance, at minimum, makes a proposal to the mind -- that it set itself in a certain manner towards certain things, and give none of them an absolute right to the veridical, and then take it from there. I survived then, I survive now. The truth as to the question of better conditions for survival and work is relevant only as to the times to come.
And yet -- the very welcome unprompted succession of these memories. It suggests a clear answer to the question.