many years ago, in some remote island where malnourished children now make mobile vans and shit that make our society so great, a couple of Indians came to the conclusion that members of the body play betting so common at that time ceased to be productive when you had no legs to ride a horse or arms to throw dice, so I would do something equally absurd and with a load of repentance similar: the body would be marked with permanent ink.
Centuries later, sailors tol of the world decided to import this nonsense to Western culture, and so as today we see all these pigments dearly embedded in the skin of people of all ages (between 15 and 20) on the subway, concerts and piccadilly. People who know this is usually split by the drawing style. But I know with certainty that tattoos should be divided as follows:
· Those who see in the subway. carried proudly by Ecuadorians and people who lived through the military as a trip to Talayuelas are small, green after time and the sun has (incredibly) worsened the irregular black line that ran through your arm as recurring motifs like a sword, the name of the company when they turn nineteen in Algeciras / Chihuahua or even the name of your girlfriend of that time. This stick .
· Those who carry Bakal. If you want to get a tattoo and someone says NO, NOBODY IN THE FUTURE CONTRACTS; not listen to them. In the future, the butcher, the plumber, the reformer, the reviewer of the metro, the police and (God forbid) your doctor will significantly arms full of stars hollow and if you saved enough pollen and Farla, even your fucking name in Gothic letters.
· The women wear. Small but not yet worn, they are hidden somewhere in your body will start to teach at the time having the tattoo done (probably before him, had never shown the back). Hadas sitting on the moon, clef, musical scores, lizards ... A world of monochrome bumper eternal!
· The people carrying the stick. Huge, colorful, pretty, and probably as meaningless as the previous one. Robots , sugar skulls, tents, anchors, hourglasses, swallows, virgins and other symbols that are absurd if you know nothing about tattoos fill the bodies of the buck you expect (hope) not repent of what we did when we listened to music violent than in our youth (of course the kid who has Famous F in the pelvis, will).
And all this sarcasm is hypocritical that tomorrow I start the requiem for my father, my armpits will bleed a lot and my wallet more. A hug plastic and ink sweating, fellas.
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