They appear in the sky, faint black dots, random yet steady, focused yet free. I find myself daydreaming, feather tucked beneath limb, caught up in possibility, as my own gypsy heart soars upward to meet them. "Where are we going?" I ask. "Ever forward," they reply. We have no set destination, but like the ocean, we, too, seek some far away shore, that will welcome us until we say farewell and spread wing to breeze once more.

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