“To be nobody but yourself in a world which is doing its best, night and day, to make you everybody else – means to fight the hardest battle which any human being can fight; and never stop fighting.”
I just can’t help it. I like tattoo’s. I got my first tattoo when I was 23. A well overthought decision. A sentence on my ribs, next to my heart. A memory of my mom. Another long cherished idea of a compass has accured to me being a passionate traveller and over the years it developed into a compass with a mandala. A private and personal design that is on my back right now since last year.
I notice that tattoos are more and more appreciated and they aren’t such a taboo anymore like years ago. I was always skeptical, despite the fact that I wanted a tattoo for years. The biased image that is created over the years is hard to let go. ‘Only criminals have tattoos.‘ ‘If you’re old and saggy it looks horrible’. Yes, but by then I am OLD and SAGGY indeed. Does it really matter? As a child from an intellectual responsible family I was afraid that I would look out of place or misjudged. Luckily I realised that was just fear (fear is a bad counsellor) because oh, I love them. Beautiful. Attractive. Art. It fits me and my way of life.
I would never cover myself from head to toe full of tattoo’s and I like the fact that I can cover the places, nevertheless, I consciously buy shirts with an open back so that I can show my pride. I have emailed my artist once again yesterday for another long-cherished desire, a half sleeve of flowers (open field of birth flowers, my love for nature and combination of the mandala-style) on my arm.