One night in February, as I was looping my squid-ink spaghetti through a fork, Alex from across the table asked, “Would you not like to live elsewhere?” I flatly answered, “no.” I saw neither the need nor the attraction of packing my life in a suitcase, immersing myself into a mountain of paperwork (which I think nobody ever does willingly) when I can be perfectly contented with the occasional travels and the difference between holiday and relocation is clearly distinguished.