Tilly Evan Jones

Mention gypsies and you may hear different stories, memories, rumors. As a child I heard the gypsies were in town, and the storekeepers were worried. There were whispers about where they may be camping, what they wore, and questions about who may have visited their camp for a fortune. A friend of mine, an 85 year old woman, tells me that in her youth, gypsies stayed near her, and befriended her. She tells me of evenings spent by campfires, listening to song and chatter, and times of dusk, chasing fireflys with the children,
The stories hint at magic, yet hold a touch of the mundane moments of my own childhood.
So perhaps what we don’t know, who we don’t know holds a bit of knowledge of ourselves.

gypsy wagon