I have this stupid habit of dashing madly from my bedroom, which is on the third floor of my house, down to the kitchen, which is at basement level, to shove my hand into the oven so I can rescue burning food. This happens on a regular basis, by the way. So my fingers and forearms have a lot of char-grilled marks. And when I was a child I had a fondness for the almonds growing on my neighbour's tree and I used to climb the tree all the time and come tumbling down with ripped knees and forearms. So I am covered in all sorts of scars, scabs and burn marks. So, do you know, I don't care about tattoos. I never wanted one, because I figure it would be like adding to the years of self-mutilation. Also, I keep thinking that even if the tattoo looks amazing now, in about 15 years when the wrinkling really sets in and the skin starts to droop, tattoos must look really terrible.
But I was recently reading Au Feminin and saw some tattoos that look simple and interesting. Still life marking the human condition...or something like that. Is it art? They make me re-think my stance...
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