Gypsy Dreaming

There is a gypsy caravan in my mind's eye. One of those old fashioned ones with a high peaked roof, an overhang covering the driver's perch to keep him or her sheltered from the weather, and a Dutch door at the back. It rolls, swaying gently, down the highway, an anachronism in these days of fast cars and bullet trains.

It's a rich, dark purple, almost black; nothing pastel about it. Perhaps it will have some strange symbols painted in gold along the side, which may ward off the evil eye, or perhaps are just there for luck on the road. Its four wheels will be a concession to the hard road surface, truck tires and axels having replaced the traditional wooden wagon wheels of old.

It has a four-horsepower engine, fueled by grains and oats, four Irish tinker horses with flowing manes and shaggy feet that plod at a steady pace through all weather. They will each be wearing blinkers to protect their eyes from the sight of traffic on either side. I don't want them shying when a vehicle make a sudden appearance in their field of vision.

Inside will be cramped, with four cats and two people's accommodations. It will always carry the odours of the last meal cooked mingled with tobacco, coffee, and the smell of old wood. A small stove is parked half way down one wall, its pipe tied with bailing wire to hooks protruding form the wall as it snakes its way out through the roof. In the winter it not only provides a means for cooking but also a source of warmth.

Concessions to modern conveniences will be the chemical toilet curtained off in one corner, and the satellite dish perched on the roof to serve as an internet connection. Electrical power for the computer will come from the small propane generator that also serves to power the small fridge where a few perishables are kept.

We will move down the road at a steady pace, but nowhere near as fast as the traffic scurrying by us to unknown destinations. We're not trying to get anywhere, because wherever we are is where we were going. We are always at our destination even though we are constantly on the move.

Travelling not for the purpose of going from point A to B but as a state of living is alien to most people. Each time they get behind the wheel of a car, or board a bus, train or plane, they have a specific place they have to be at a specific time. We must appear as aimless drifters, purposeless and lost

Article Author: Richard Marcus

Richard Marcus is the author of the What Will Happen In Eragon IV? and The Unofficial Heroes Of Olympus Companion, both published by Ulysses Press. He has had his work published in print and online all over the world including the German edition of Rolling Stone Magazine and www.Qantara.de. …

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