America is nothing compared to where I am visiting, Italy. I have taken some photos but cannot send them to you, for they have not been developed yet. The pictures are of Gypsies in the city. One sits in a window sill leaning up against the frame. The Gypsy’s silhouette can be seen mirrored in the glass of the window. Her gaze is toward the window, her head tilting to the left. She wears festive colors, yet her face expresses forlorn thoughts. I think she is contemplating her life and where it will go next. Her knees are drawn close to her body.
The Gypsy’s left arm rests on her knees, a red lantern dangling from skinny fingers. Five gold bangles are around her bony wrist. Her other arm, the right one, is positioned behind her, gripping the sill, keeping her from falling off the shallow window ledge. Three cold, brass-colored necklaces adorn her neck, hanging as they please. A scarf of golden threads is draped around her shoulders. A white skirt falls to the right, spilling over the sill. A good portion of her legs shows beneath the white skirt. A loose, bright red, puff-sleeved dress is worn over the skirt. A hint of metallic purple is visible on the right side where the waist belongs. Brown, open-toed sandals wrap her obviously tired feet. The hair is pulled back, out of her face, covered by a black shawl over her head. The lighting casts a shadow on the left half of her face, while the other half is still lit.
This reminds me of Esmeralda from “The Hunchback of Notre Dame.” Nothing seems to go very well for her. She wants God to help the outcasts or nobody will. “Aren’t we all the children of God?” she questions. She keeps the faith even when life isn’t going right.