He watches an actor playing a gipsy with a lamplit young beauty in the intimacy of a caravan, a double feature, D.H. Lawrence on celluloid. When the message flashes onscreen a nerve stabs as he realises everybody is reading his name. Speaker banging against the window, he heads in the direction of dreadful news, then looks back. Something’s about to happen any moment in the red silk glow of that gipsy caravan. His footsteps crack gravel under a black sheet of night studded by stars as he passes people who have pushed aside the shadowy curtains of a gipsy caravan. He hears the muffled soundtrack, kissing and groaning, but understands he must resist the urge to turn back again.
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