Gemini sun, Aquarius moon.

You are interested in everyone and belong to almost no one.

Double air with the long view: ideas are your native country. Connection comes easily; attachment stays theoretical until suddenly it is not. When you finally join something, you rewrite its constitution.

Togetherness with an exit is still togetherness.

An Aquarius moon refuels at one remove: the long view, the odd hobby, a room of your own inside the crowd. You come back warmer from an hour alone than from an evening of company, and the people who last understand that math.

It helps everyone if you label the three.

You bend in public and hold in private: endlessly flexible about everything except the three things you will never move on. Most people never find the walls, which is why hitting one shocks them.

The corrective is not difference but depth: you do the thing, all the way down.

The internet writes Gemini off as two people and neither one listening. With an Aquarius moon the rumor is, for once, nearly aimed right; you are the concentrated pour.

Feed the moon first: say the inner weather out loud, to one person or one page.

Unspoken it becomes static; spoken it becomes weather you can fly in. Keep one correspondent who receives the unedited forecast.