Bluesman on the move

i’m new here.

that long road behind me has

curved through trouble and joy—

old steel towns that roared,

mills, villages, and huntin’ outposts.

i’ve crossed rivers in winter

and walked miles with ice in my bones.

it’s hard to believe, i know,

an old man and his tales.

stray notes from my guitar still

bounce around the mountains like ghosts.

all i want—

to find a place where i fit in.

my only company—

the dream of a home.

in spring i ambled down a road of cherry trees,

each more lonely than the last.

i trudged through endless fields of high grass,

seeking refuge from the unrelenting summer sun.

the trick i’ve discovered:

remember what makes you happy.

and carry it with you on the road.

for me, it’s singin’.

everywhere i go, i bring a song.

or make a new one.

bring your home with you

and you’ll never be without one.

‘cause you ain’t never left.

it’s a funny thing to be new somewhere.

people look at you strangely.

but once you see enough faces on the road,

you learn to smile all the same.

i can’t stay here long—

it’ll be autumn soon.

there are bronzed days ahead.

i’ve seen them before and will again.

i might look old,

but like i said,

i’m new here.

and if i’m ever gonna get where i’m going,

i have to keep moving.

all i want—
to find a place where i fit in.

based on the idiom, what type of place is the bluesman looking for?

a place where he feels comfortable and accepted
a place where he is able to hide his true identity
a place where he can store all of his belongings
a place where he stands out because he is unique