We are a movement, a storm of people who spend our lives traveling. We migrate. Not for food, nor warmth, but for experience, adventure, survival of another sort. Of the spirit. We seek inspiration, purpose, answers. For me, I seek to know what is home. A place? A community? Confidence? Until then, I will just keep trying things out. But I am starting to feel a purpose in writing. So here are my chapters and changes. My life as a story. Through the wandering I am learning myself, my rhythms, and my needs. That knowledge protects me. It is a weightless shelter I can carry everywhere. It is a home.