“For twenty years he had thought about nothing but his return. But once he was back, he was amazed to realize that his life, the very essence of his life, its center, its treasure, lay outside Icatha, in the twenty years of his wanderings. And this treasure he had lost, and could retrieve only by telling about it.
After leaving Calypso, during his return journey, he was shipwrecked in Phaeacia, whose king welcomed him to his court. There is was a foreigner, a mysterious stranger. A stranger gets asked “Who are you? Where do you come from? Tell us!” and he had told. For four long books of the Odyssey he had retrced in detail his adventures before the dazzled Phaeacians. But in Icatha he was not a stranger, he was one of their own, so it never ocurred to anyone to say, “Tell us!””
From Milan Kundera’s ‘Ignorance’.
I feel a lot like this at the moment.