The clearing
I was about to leave. A full, yellowish moon preceded me. It led me a bright way. There was a lush forest ahead of us. It crawled over the tree tops. It touched them. It stiffened. On its fringes I did stop too. A border to the unknown, how I could pass along?
I was surrounded by thick darkness. The moon was nowhere to be seen. There was only its glow among leaves and trunks, frazzles quickly lost as if collected by an invisible hand.
I didn’t see it. I felt the light. I stretched out my right hand. Its palm moistened and warmed. Sweetness spread all over my body as though it had dipped into lukewarm medicinal water. Her laughter was loud, clear, rich. I first distinguished my palmprint on her naked sternum. Her face was like a picture sculpted in ebony, fine- crafted work by a gifted hand. Black hair spilled around the shoulders, with twisted edges. Her body was like silk fabric shaped by the air. All around her there was light. Did she reflect the moon or had she thrown it on her shoulders? She laughed. She called me. I was hesitant. My heart was beating loudly as if had decided to take her with us on its own. A scent unknown and unprecedented overwhelmed me. Green leaf, wildflowers, soaked earth. A wave that lifted me up. I walked. She gave me light to go on. I longed to reach her, to touch her. Sometimes, I thought of shouting, asking: “What is your name?” I respected the silence.
She stood and turned to me for a moment. No sooner had I remained my breath to speak than she was lost. Gazing, I searched for her in the shadows which came all over me. All of a sudden, there were laughs and voices. Have I lost my mind, I presumed, like those hermits who believe that God is talking to them when the intensity and the direction of the wind changes?
Light emerged. This one was different. A weak one which slowly strengthened. There was a wide clearing ahead of me. A fire in its center. Crossed tree trunks fed her with its yellowish red flame lessening their height while its tallness billowed and went higher and higher as if it yearned to scorch the sky. Through the trees delineating the clearing, hands were emerging which were holding more tree trunks and stacked them into the fire feeding it before they became bodies and sat around it cross- legged. She was the only one standing, took strolls among them, either measuring them with the eye or raising the head and turning it towards the trees surrounding them.
I gained courage through my desire to approach her but my step remained still. The space was filled. The crowd absorbed her and everyone took something from her. And there were so many of them! I steadied my step to set foot on the clearing. To come close. That was it. I closed my eyes lest I saw them through the sounds of their voices, the rustle of their movements. They passed in front of me. Tall, spare and short, slender and bellied ones. Blackened nails, gold teeth among hollow and broken ones. Thick, heavy, shiny rings that tightened inflated fingers. Cheap the rings, made of wire, on skeleton fingers. Black costumes, colourful and glossy shirts, fancy and greasy neckties, mouldy, full of patches jackets and trousers that were barely held on the waist by leather strap or a piece of rope, while their worn edges crawled onto the soil. Dresses that reminisced of blooming or dried meadows and held rich, voluptuous or withered breasts, headbands tied back to the neck, out of which long braids emerged, patent leather shoes with smashed toes and worm heels, clumbers with soles worm and full of holes, women’s slippers with a layer of human skin on them while their bottom was full of soil, gravels and asphalt, pumps which were false- stepped, children and teenage naked legs, whitened to the knee by the dust. People and animal sweat everywhere was watering the earth. Ita mudded it. Legs were kneading it and the dough stuck on them.
She stood beside me. Magic picture! She cut with her hand whatever I had to say. She went back to the clearing. I yelled.
Her eyes were like coals on fire. I cowered like a toddler who is afraid of the anger that will break out on him.
I found the courage to mumble.
- But they do not speak the same language, neither do they come from the same places.
Her breath was burning my face.
- You fool! – She shouted. Do you think that it is land that unites us? It is our roads that unite us and we adapt our language as needed.
I knelt at her feet, a silent solicitor just for one kiss. Her naked foot was stepping firmly on my left shoulder. I took it into my hands. Her skin was tender and hard at the same time, veins pounding like demons, wet with sweat and rain water. I put it back on my shoulder and leaned on it. In my ear there were echoes of streets, gunning cars, neighing horses, baying dogs, people swearing. I turned my eyes on her. On the ends of her hair there was entangled straw from the summer, dried leaves from the autumn, chilled twigs steaming up the morning mist, buds that smile like spring.
Whit a wave of her hand she discouraged me. She wandered away. She did not step down, though she made dust. She did not shoulder anyone aside but she was among them. She stood on top of the fire as if the flames were lifting her on their shoulders. She raised her hands and they hushed. A voice, a sweet- heard one, came out of her chest.
- Rise gypsies! Now is the time.*
Daouli hit. Clarinet came in front. Cornets, trombones, tubas, came near. They confused the tune, the notes stumbled one upon the other. She clapped her hands and even those who were not listening to the rhythm behaved as if they felt it in their chest. The instruments were starting a dance, they traced the tracks for the footsteps to follow. They now learned what the next person wanted. A chain. Two, three, four… I was losing the count. I did non miss a single word from her.
“Come with me Roma
dark and brown eyes of the world
I like you as much as black grapes
Roma, my brothers”*
I wanted to be part of the dance. I got confused. I fell down. I threw away my shoes and got up. Thorns hurt my legs. They bled them. Shall I go on, but how much blood would I have as the bloody footsteps spawned behind me?
It lightens. She stood between me and the light which slowly strengthened. She showed me. A wide path among the trees. I embraced her legs.
- I wanna come with you…
She knelt, took my bare leg into her arms and gently cleaned the dried blood with her fingers. She picked up my shoes and left them in front of me. She was lost, a twig that the wind blew away. Standing, I was looking for the clearing. It had become a road. On the ground there were marks from car tires, cart wheels, horseshoes, shoes and bare feet. With my shoes on I would reach them. I began. The road narrowed. A soft breeze blew that was getting stronger, blowing away the signs. I came close but the road narrowed, the wind strengthened…
*Lyrics from the Roma song “Djelem, djelem”
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