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    A portrait of a gypsy, or rather myself, embracing the will to break conventional suppressions inflecting on women.
 He once gave his heart to the girl whose spirit belongs to the wind. 
She brought with her the wilderness of nature
filled in her eyes the stream of waterfall
folded in her dress the scent from the cavalier daffodils
And held in her hands, shall his heart be
But as briefly as the nomad kept hold of something, they let it go
“I love you, but the wind is where I shall forever belong”
the gypsy left , and broke his heart in two.
"'I love you, but I belong to the wind', whispered the gypsy"
Graphite on paper