gypsy

Hidden in a toolbox, in the rafters of his four-car garage, was an envelope full of pictures taken by a private detective...They were pictures of a scrawny, boyish looking nine year old with a wide mouth and a tangle of brown hair...Her eyes were oblong and deep set, their color hidden from the camera by the slant of the sun. The angles and planes of her face were oddly beautiful just then, in that moment, frozen on Kodak paper. A hint of the woman she would someday become.

She was like the sun, She knew her place in the world - She would shine again regardless of all the storms and changeable weather She wouldn't adjust her purpose for things that pass.

I am wild, untameable, the storm and the eye withinAn unpredictable gypsy, with passion beyond your wildest dreamsand unquenchable desiresfor you and you alone...Persistent and fiercely loyal, today I choose to be all of theseand more_Will you still be here tomorrow?

Stories are made about girls like you. The wild ones, those rare faces that smile in the midst of chaos.

She was drawn to the wild warriors, they had to have a little gypsy in their veins.

Wildflower; pick up your pretty little head, It will get easier, your dreams are not dead.

Born at Letterman Army Hospital. I never actually lived in San Francisco. It's not my home town, but then, I don't have one. I'm a nomad...a gypsy...an Army Brat. Put me on an airplane, send me anywhere. That's where I belong...anywhere.

For a time, then, we stay. For a time. Till the changes.

Well, at least this is what I told myself every day as I fell asleep with the fire still burning and the moon shining high up in the sky and my head spinning comforting from two bottles of wine, and I smiled with tears in my eyes because it was beautiful and so god damn sad and I did not know how to be one of those without the other.

Have you ever met someone for the first time, but in your heart you feel as if you__e met them before?

When I was younger, I would cling to life because life was at the top of the turning wheel. But like the song of my gypsy girl, the great wheel turns over and lands on a minor key. It is then that you come of age and life means nothing to you. To live, to die, to overdose, to fall in a coma in the street... it is all the same. It is only in the peach innocence of youth that life is at its crest on top of the wheel. And there being only life, the young cling to it, they fear death_ And they should! ...For they are 'in' life.

What a rebellious act it is to love yourself naturally in a world of fake appearances.

There's something about kindred spirits, you meet them and for a moment this world no matter ugly, makes sense. They bring a sense of freedom and clarity to one conversation; just enough to remind you of who you are.

Healing your wounds will hurt, so cry. Cry your pretty little heart out until you have nothing left to shed, that's how beauty is grown; through the darkest of our days we become the light.

This is your karma. You do not understand now, but you will understand later. The source of pain is within your own larger expression of being.

I don't paint what people expect, I paint what my heart yearns to express.

I don't want fleeting friendships or relationships or passion in life, give me fleeting moments in coffee shops and walks by the water but I will never be satisfied with empty kinships that are fleeting & undecided. Those connections are what make us all human and I dare not settle my wild little heart for something of so little depth.

You know a wild spirit just by looking at them, they carry a vibe that doesn't appear often but when it does my god you won't forget them. They are always passing through lives, never staying put, but always remembered long after they have left. These souls are kindred spirits, they connect deeply or not at all.