There are many parts to the story of how I ended up in this chair yesterday, with Darren applying ink to my skin, along the same colors and lines as he did about 18 years prior.

Last time, I was in a dorm room. It cost less than half as much. I didn’t have to make an appointment. I didn’t take a picture. The lighting wasn’t nearly as good. And I don’t think he was wearing gloves.

Still, I never regretted it. And when I realized that this marking has been with me now longer than it hasn’t, and that Darren’s shop is around the corner from where I live, it just felt time to make crisper and clearer the image that i’d had him put inside me. The one that reminds me once in a while to do something for no good reason.

I had the image embellished with a small piece of greenery. It could be a pitcher’s mound or a gravesite. Either way it’s sacred and it’s with me always. I hope I don’t take another 18 years to forget to notice.

Categories: Sent Remotely
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