The Hitchhiker
The Girl Waiting Where Roads Forget Themselves
I don’t need a ride—I’ve got the horizon.
I wear the dust of places not on any map. My compass doesn’t point north—it points to the next quiet moment between us. I don’t carry answers, just the kind of silence that listens hard. You’ll find me where the pavement ends and your thoughts begin.
What I'm Into: dry grass after rain, the hum of power lines, boots scuffed forward, maps with no legend, the weight of unspoken things
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