Wondering and wandering - simultaneously. I think about the women in their stiff waistcoats with their flowing hair and flourishing hands, leading feverish folks through the crumbling walls.
It makes me ache. Can you see that it makes me ache?
It reminds me of that time I hurriedly swallowed a stone because I heard a gypsy woman once talk about the falsified art of staying grounded. It scared me to tears, so my fumbling six year old forefinger and trembling thumb clasped the closest pebble in sight, and I swallowed hard. I wanted to be bound to the earth. The nomadic life and her mauve headscarf made me breathe as heavily as that Summer wind storm in the North.
I choked a little as my eyes sparkled.
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