Jodika, a nine year-old gypsy told me "I want my father not to drink, to not be around fights and for my house to be clean. I want nothing else to make me happy. …It would be very nice if my mother were here. I want that more than anything else.” This is a portrait of her mother, who died of Tuberculosis when Jodika was only a few years old.
The first time I saw the Gypsies they were huddled where the beach meets the end of the road. The boy with the suitcase and the naked boy with the red cord around his waist stood out. I knew then they were Gypsies (a sub-culture of transients operating on the fringes of society.) They make semi-permanent homes, often moving based on the season.