The Pilgrim

You trust the compass. You cannot explain the compass.

Under pressure, your feet want to move. Stillness feels like something is closing around you.

In the world.

You're the friend who left the city, the job, the relationship. The friend who'll do it again. You read a room and a horizon at the same time. You know within minutes whether a place will hold you or grind you down. You've been called restless. You've been called brave. You're not sure they aren't the same thing.

What it has cost you.

The roots you wouldn't put down in case the soil was wrong. The people who tried to stay close to a moving target. The years of motion that, looked at honestly, were one long way of not finding out who you are when you stop.

What you fear.

That belonging somewhere means giving up who you are.

You also share the tribe with

The Alchemist

The Stoic

The Sybil