Gypsy Nights

The lady raised her hands and gestured for us all to ascend the steps separating us. We all gathered around her. Her hair remained in gray strands, swirling around her face, almost concealing its features, except for her eyes, which were slender and piercing like a hawk's. We waited apprehensively, enveloped in silence. Thousands were filled with awe at her presence, and the moonlight poured down, deepening our silence and reverence. Rosina was no longer the "eccentric" woman, living in the solitude of her cottage, conversing with cats and birds. The recluse had not yet appeared in the realm of human sexuality beyond the bounds of proportion... for she had become, in that sense, a domineering, awe-inspiring, all-knowing woman, holding the keys to power. Her lips seemed to tell us tales of gypsy nights... The lady raised her hands and gestured for us all to ascend the steps separating us. Then she invited us to sit around her. Her gray hair, wavy around her face, almost concealed its features, save for her sharp, piercing eyes, like a hawk's. We waited in awe, and silence enveloped us. A sense of reverence washed over us in her presence, as the moonlight filtered in, deepening our silence and our solemnity. Rosina was no longer the "strange, eccentric" woman, living in the solitude of her cottage, conversing with cats and birds. She was no longer completely isolated from human contact. In those moments, she appeared as a wise, great, and knowledgeable woman, holding the keys to secrets. Her lips moved, as if she were telling us tales of gypsy nights...