Hello!!!! I have been calling myself a gypsy for years trying to describe the feeling of restlessness that gnaws at the edges of things. It comes like a breeze, changing directions and suddenly I need new scenery like I need water and food and shelter. I fight this part of myself, trying to forge roots and content myself with sameness. My younger brother, who is certainly a peripatetic, used to tell me that people are sailors or farmers. Farmers plant their roots deep and grow where they are planted, where as sailors always long for the next horizon. Sailor, gypsy, peripatetic. The winds are blowing and I keep looking for anchor.