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I still had some time to kill before heading home, and wanted to see if I could find more people to meet. A gentleman sitting on a bench caught my attention but, for whatever reason, I kept on walking for a brief moment before wheeling around.
This is Gypsy. I’d commented on his impressive sideburns as an icebreaker, and he told me that he combs them into his hair, as they actually hang down past his shoulders! I sat down beside him to talk, and soon found myself engrossed in his wonderful stories about a challenging but eventful life. He has an easy laugh and a great voice, like he’s bottled up the sound of a radio star from a bygone era and has been using it ever since; a rich, slightly gravelly baritone. Indeed, he told me his style is from the 50’s, and that he loves and collects music from the 50’s, 60’s, and 70’s. As we got up to walk to our respective destinations, he told me the story of how he got his name. He used to frequent a diner back in the day, but one day he disappeared for a few months. When he returned, the waitress quizzed him on his absence, commenting that he was like a gypsy, and the nick name has stuck ever since.
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