Dancing through the bright and loud New York streets my little gypsy queen floated by with her camera in hand.
Snapping memories here and there she found love around those ***** streets and neon lights.

He tried to grab her waist and pull her in but she was too preoccupied with the memories she was making.
Her hair sparkled like glitter and her smile could make the ice caps melt.

Singing to the beat of the sirens and the moving to the beat of the traffic she weaved in and out of local shops like the complex braids in her hair.

She was the queen of the grungy corner kids waiting for one more cigarette.
She was the goddess of adventure and the muse to all who craved the lust of life.
She was the Gypsy.
She was the Artist.

Dancing through the crowded New York underground, my little gypsy queen was unbelievably and undeniably herself in every way possible.