Becoming Silent Siren, the tribunal allows me as contributor to the community but I'm still not part of it. It does help my pull in that I'm more free to interact and engage with my audiences. That's why I always perform last, so people don't expect the same amount of interactions from everyone and it seems right of the last performer I suppose. Some post-performance guests are creepy; they want to be way more personal than I prefer. The Romani won't protect me from these, I'm already impure in their eyes. I found a song that works for those ones, it seems to make them take care of their own needs without them needing to touch me.
I knock on Mommy Vedunny's door. I keep my items in her cart as it's the only safe place I know to store anything in the caravan. She opens the door, her nostrils flaring noticeably with the golden hoop from her nose chained to her ear in two places by two chains. Her milky, cataract eyes like birds eggs nesting in the wrinkles of her face.
"Latcho Mommy," I greet cheerfully.
"Latcho," her face brightens into a smile and she cups my face with her palms. "Come in, let's get you ready for today."
I pull myself up the steps, she already has the incense burning within her cart this morning. She's the seer so she cart has been sanctioned for gadjo entrance. I've seen her read many things; stones, cards, palms, tea, bones, boards. I don't know how she remembers it all. In the back is my trunk. I put on the sea foam colored harm pants with the matching embellished bra and scrounge to the bottom for the silver Isis wings. I put my casual clothes back in the trunk and sit myself at Mommy Vedunny's feet.
Sunday, March 16, 2014
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
0 comments:
Post a Comment