https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sC2yEFpacIE&fb_action_ids=10207125946531053&fb_action_types=og.shares&fb_source=other_multiline&action_object_map=%5B10150254431279744%5D&action_type_map=%5B%22og.shares%22%5D&action_ref_map=%5B%5D
It’s in my blood. A past life memory? Was I a Gypsy in a previous existence? I don’t put much stock in that stuff. It dunnae jibe with my personal beliefs. Yet I cannot deny that there is something about that part of the world that speaks to me. And when I hear authentic eastern European music, the traditional kind that would’ve been heard in country inns and peasant villages in centuries past, I could almost believe I’d once lived there, had heard that music before. A part of my soul longs to return there—even if I’ve never been in the first place. Does that make any sense?
If I did once sit around a campfire, though, a passenger in a Gypsy caravan, or once huddled behind a heavy door on Walpurgis Night, there is one specific way in which I’d have deviated from my peers. I wouldn’t have shivered at the utterance of the word VAMPIRE. Rather I believe I’d have sought out such creatures, fascinated by them, not afraid. For the world conjured up by that music, the world to which I long to return, is the world, first and foremost, of the vampire. Home sweet home.
i would of sought them out as well