I never got  any tattoos but used to like them. I knew someone who did them for a living. He had a huge work in progress piece of a cathedral on his back. He had over ten hours on it, and it was still only half way done when I last saw it. In terms of his own work, he did a lot of good things, but usually stuff like dolphins jumping through hearts of flowers. Even so I  can’t help thinking about how many pieces of his art are rotting away now on the arms and legs of the undead. There must  be some melancholy even to the lonely tramp stamp flapping gently in the wind, clinging to the exposed white of a sacrum bone. I haven’t seen any so far, but I try not to look too hard anyway. It’s depressing. I wonder what that cathedral piece looks Iike now. It’s fitting isn’t it? The image of a half finished monument peeling off the remnants of a half decomposed person.
Sometimes it’s a bad idea to think too much about these things.