They waited and waited for the sun to come out, and when it did, it snowed. A cold chill amOngst warm insides, penetrating wool right down to the very bone. Couldn't you please turn on the warmth, Mother? Silence fell.
Inside the gypsy caravan huddled under blankets and amongst candle light, cards flip, unknowingly so. The floor showed itself- a small crack, and through it something more. Yes, it was the tiniest little glimpse of a deeper, yes, much deeper, abyss. Indeed. This was of no surprise to the gypsies, for they were always attuned to magic. Each one carried crystals, specific to each, and took from it whatever particular energies the rocks engendered. They, themselves, we're of no Particular gender and so engendered arbitrary attributes of oneself. That is to say, the gypsies were free.
It is known to some that the gift of freedom comes at a heavy cost, but these handful were strong and could carry any load. On their backs they carried a thousand and one possibilities. Delicate, of course, and needing to be responsible about such things. What they really wanted to do was share their baskets with the world, and feed each hungry mind with love. All one, all one. The soap said so.
Enveloped by painted vines adorning the ceiling's nest, a place for each.