...as if she mean it.

The funny thing about being Gypsy-born is that constant desire for the mundane.

For the standard fare.

For the prince charming, the picket fence, the Sunday dinners,  and shiny kitchen sink.

The funniest thing about being Gypsy-born is the inherent knowledge that princes tend to be assholes, picket fences never stay white for long, you can’t cook worth a shit…

And who the hell looks at kitchen sinks anyhow?