The philosophical dilemma of the "homeland" and exile (oooh, foreshadowing)

 Suppose you have a choice.  You may have your childhood home and neighborhood, presuming you had the same home and neighborhood throughout your childhood.  You had assumed it to be a birthright.  You may have this, but no books.  Alternatively, you may be cast into a country you do not know, yet with access to every book ever written.  Which do you choose?  Your answer tells me what I must know about you.  There is, philosophically speaking, a correct answer.  It is not the answer which will be most common in a society in which few people read (nor really anywhere), but to my mind, it is no dilemma at all.  Think on this.  Muse.  Is that a hint?  It probably does not help.  I have no more talent for the creation of riddles than for anything else.

Fine.  Musonius Rufus.  Get it?  Muse?  Musonius?  I told you, I suck at everything.

Does your homeland, or any land mean anything to you?  It should not, according to Musonius, so exile should mean even less.  Let us consider.  Let everyone consider.  "Everyone" means everyone.