A kettle whistles at six in the morning while the window is only just thinking about getting light, and that hour, that quiet, is yours. Your Sun belongs to the fourth house, the house of roots and the inner home, the kitchen of the soul where the family pulse runs under the floorboards, and so who you are settles into the private ground rather than the open street. You come most alive at home, in the small rituals you keep when no guest is coming. Your light is indoor weather, not stage weather, and that is its own kind of strength. Watch how easily the safe room becomes a closed one, how the threshold can quietly stop opening. So pick the few people who get to cross it and let the others simply pass by. And learn to carry home in your body, so that when the address changes, and it will, the warmth travels with you. Roots were never chains. Roots are how the light gets all the way up to the top branches.