forward ever, backward never
today's flourish friday is about how my body became a walking and breathing doodle pad for inspiration
*cover photo by Nic Y-C on Unsplash*
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My dad hated my tattoos and wasn't coy about his disdain. In the years since his death, I've gotten so many tattoos, one crawling up my arm, another covering my left calf in an ode to Audre Lorde's Sister Outsider and its impact on my life since I first read it, and several others. There is a part of me that wonders if this is my grief at play, a streak of rebellion rearing its ugly head, just busy being a girl still at odds with her dead dad. And sometimes I think I just really love tattoos, and why not make my body a canvas?
If it was up to me and tattoos were free, my whole body would be covered in tattoos. At least once a day, I read a line or hear a song, and I think, "Ohhhh, that was good. I should tattoo it." I do not go into the shop with elaborate ideas already mapped out. Instead, I arrive ready to sit in these chairs, needle to skin, thankful that even pain can create art.
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