thoughts about my ink
My ink is an art created in pain and is now beauty, rippling, breathing, warm colorful flesh. I surprise myself when I look down as I get out of the shower. It is a constant revelation.
Soulless? No. I just keep it real. No need to dot the "i," and no need to put out the standard flourish. Others do that so well and bank by their reputation. Hate to give them any competition.
Soulless? No. I just keep it real. No need to dot the "i," and no need to put out the standard flourish. Others do that so well and bank by their reputation. Hate to give them any competition.
3 Comments:
You really need to write that book. The imagery you describe is shattering...
You have on your body the most glorious markings of any animal on earth. Beautiful as a monarch butterfly, dangerous looking as a coral snake, and hot as a jungle in full bloom.
Your tatoo artist is indeed a master, and you are a woman of impeccable judgment and taste in choosing him.
/Zin
I will write a book, but it will end up getting banned you know.
My tattoo artist is an arrogant bastard, young, good looking and extremely fucking talented. He is already a big star. If you want some ink, just e-mail me and I will divulge his identity. Or you could ask around in Venice about the half tattoed chick and they will probably point where to go. I love the hood!
Post a Comment
<< Home