Prologue

The road calls, a slender black ribbon snaking out into the distance.

This is journalism in its most literal form. I roam the roads, tracing the trail as I go, my words and images the breadcrumbs.

Anything can be a road: roads, naturally. But also rails, trails, rivers, ocean currents and the skies above.

This page is a shadow, its edges soft and unset. Passages on this page are ephemeral, and may change shape or disappear entirely. New passages may suddenly appear from nothing.

I am The Road Rogue.

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