Ideally, I'd like to get back to Transylvania in time for the big theatre festival in Sibiu, though I'd likely only be able to afford a few of the ticketed shows -- the outdoor ones are less worthwhile than in the past, but still worthwhile, and the university ones are revealing. And the film festival in Sarajevo has actually provided a very unfiltered look at current world politics.
But this will (n.b., not the subjunctive) require an uptick in editing work, and that transom is conspicuously free of anything flying through it recently.
I do need to get away from their craven minds, if I am to realize my outlandish hopes of continued existence and such. The corruption that has brought me to this point is just an accident of the craven nature of the people running the show (cast a glance at where the buck stops for the quintessence of the species). And I've made careful record of their actions as I've encountered them. It's only been that way since the last generation (Woodstock>Wall Street), but these folks have marked my card and effectively ended my hopes here. It has been a difficult winter, and a difficult decade.
But while one's hopes are a creature of one's own place, they are not necessarily all located within one's own place. There is a world elsewhere, my tradition teaches.