This is worth a read. Both informative about what a tattoo entails for the body and the mind. And one of the best C.S. Lewis quotes at the end, which I haven’t read in a long, long time.
“This is going to be my last one,” I said to my tattoo artist. We were sitting in his new studio, in the basement of a parlor in Greenpoint, Brooklyn; the walls still smelled like paint, in addition to the oddly intoxicating inky, bloody, sweaty animal smells that go along with tattooing.
“You say that every time,” he laughed, raising his eyebrow and tearing a piece of tracing paper off a long roll, getting ready to sketch. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”
Myles is the only person I’d trust to put a gun against my skin, and he’s been doing it off and on for me going on 10 years now. In fact, he’s one of the few people in the world I can honestly say I trust explicitly, though I don’t know him very well once I slide off the table at the end of a session…
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