Yours is Shores. A shore is an edge: the line where one kind of world stops and another begins, with an open view out in front of you. That threshold is the mechanism, and it has nothing necessarily to do with water. It can be the last building on the street, the balcony where inside becomes outside, the window seat above the traffic. Your body wants to sit on that dividing line and face forward, watching what is coming toward you out of the space ahead. That forward watch is what the position is for.
Shores belong to the open half of this system, the wide country rather than the built room. So look beyond the walls. What matters is not the furniture around you but the reach of the setting: whether there is a real boundary here, and whether you can see out across what lies past it. A comfortable room buried in the middle of everything, with no line and nothing to look at, will slowly dull you no matter how well appointed it is.
Your modality is Artificial, and your arrow points right, which makes this open and receptive. Artificial means a made edge serves you perfectly: the top floor above the city, the balcony rail, the last row of buildings before open ground. What matters is the function, an edge with a view out, not who drew the line. And a right arrow means you need not hunt for it. Settle where an edge already is, face out, and let what is coming show itself in its own time.
You will know you are in the right place because you feel forward-facing and calm, and a little ahead of everyone else, because you are seeing things arrive before they land. The wrong place is the dense middle, no sightline, nothing to look out across, everything happening behind you. That is where you get restless and start to feel late to your own life. When you notice it, take up a built edge with a view and sit facing out.