Not until it starts to stink does the inevitable happen.
Once you've lived in France, you don't want to live anywhere else, including France.
Imagine a painter crucified by his subject!
Until, accustomed to disappointments, you can let yourself rule and be ruled by these strings or emanations that connect everything together, you haven't fully exorcised the demon of doubt that sets you in motion like a rocking horse that cannot stop rocking.
Where then shall hope and fear their objects find?
... the first step of the terrible journey toward feeling somebody should act, that ends in utter confusion and hopelessness, east of the sun and west of the moon.