Flower Power

I apologize profusely for the unoriginal title but I could not help myself.

I have always had an infatuation with the hippie style, oh what an era the sixties would have been. I am hardly channeling this look or doing it any justice apart from perhaps the flowery headband, but alas, any excuse to speak of being a gypsy. 

Ever since I was little, I wanted to become a gypsy; to run away to the forests and live with the wolves, the nymphs, the elves in their magical worlds. I just had an obsession with the clothes they wore; they looked like dreamers floating on air, and the copious amounts of jewellery hanging from their necks, threaded around their wrists, beaded through their hair so that whenever they would move the sound of wind chimes echoed. It was their beauty without effort that enchanted me, their hair like vines growing in rainforests, flowers sprouting from their spiritual thoughts. Perhaps my image of them is distorted a little by watching Esmerald in The Hunchback of Notre Dame, thinking she upholds the gypsy life. Yet what fascinatedme most of all was the way that they could travel anywhere, whenever they liked. The simplicity of their lives enabled them to escape, to not stay in one place for too long. For that destroys people. I was jealous of them, it's what I've always craved.

I don't remember what happened at school today, only that I had a wondrous day.

I felt confident.