Lunch Alone Above the Surf

The rooftop was quiet except for the wind and the sound of plates scraping tile. I ate my sandwich facing the Atlantic, half-watching the surfers below. Taghazout is supposed to be easy, a place where you lose track of days. But I counted every one. Everyone talks about hostels as instant community, but sometimes you’re just the extra chair at someone else’s table. I thought the view would make me feel bigger, lighter. Instead, I felt like a ghost in my own trip—there, but not really seen. The ocean was endless. My appetite wasn’t. #Travel #SoloTravelTruth #HostelLife