Some people have tattoos on their thighs. I have speckled bruises, a constellation of hope. The spots spread out as barley barley fields across light blue prairies- Graceland.
These tattoos, they peek out beneath soft pockets of denim and speak of the rolling hills. Or of city streets and the wait at the train station and the copper glow of a diner at 9.
One day I looked down and my spots had appeared. Ink blots just beneath the surface of the skin, spoken like the freckles and wind-tangled faces of the sea. The mark of a writer.
Inspired by the music of Craig Cardiff, Canadian folk singer from Ontario. I had the privilege of coming across a little live show of his today. He is a powerfully captivating musician and storyteller.