I was seventeen years old when I made my first acquaintance with the word
I was reading a fashion magazine in my school library, and was initially attracted to pictures of hippy-ish women, half-naked, silver ringed, long haired and pretty much hauntingly gorgeous.
My heart refused to be still.
The article painted a wordy picture about unconventional lifestyles, rebellious tendencies and wandering souls.
I wanted to crawl into the magazine. I had found my tribe!
Here was the antidote to the conservative, restrictive, bloody well boring life I had been living. I wanted to give in to the strong feeling within my soul that I was not the person my parental circumstances dictated to me.
I had distinct memories of my early life in Europe where gypsies were part of the tapestry of village life. No wonder the images in the magazine had struck such a familiar cord. My soul longed for the path that ran somewhat askance of the ordinary.