Playing with fire, oh how it burns.
Gypsy Romanchal danced, spinning and twirling to the thrumming of the drums. Sweat pours down.
Suddenly, a stone is cast.
It narrowly misses her head.
The drumming stops.
Shouting from the crowd “Demon witch begone!”
The ghastly form of the nature of these people is revealed. They fear the unknown.
The gypsy utters words in her native tongue.
lasă-i să vadă
eroarea căii lor
frica lor este puternică
“Your faith is tested,” The Gypsy says, “Fire is required for all life to thrive; your fear clouds your judgement.”
She spins the poi faster.
The drumming continues.