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I’m sitting around in a little shop close to my house. It smells of bleach and antiseptic. Pictures and earrings are hanging on the wall, while the owner – an ex-construction worker that swears like a sailor – is getting the last details on his customer’s piece.
Where am I sitting?
In an old doctors chair in mint green, sipping juice to bring up my glucose level as I sweat with nerves more than sweat from the beating sun through the front window just behind my back.
I hate needles. They scare the shat out of me… But I love tattoos.
Does that make any sense?
So, yes… Today I am getting my second tattoo.
Let’s see how it goes.