When I was younger and still letting others influence my life, I didn't think tattoos were something my children or myself should tarnish our skin with. Time passes, people come into their own, thoughts change. My children all have tattoos except for Chad who is with us now only in thought, memory and spirit. The only reason he never got one before he was killed in war was because of me. I am sorry about that if he really thought he wanted one. Lately, I've been thinking about getting one myself but don't take the decision lightly. It would have to really resonate with me before it became a permanent part of myself. So I started playing around with writing words on the inside of my wrist and inner ankle to test what it felt like, looked like, how it meshed. I know for sure I don't want a large one emblazoned in a prominent place for the world to see. If I choose to do this, it will be for me alone. Something that I can easily catch a glimpse of in times of turmoil, tragedy or ease that will provide a reminder of my own inner strength and inspiration.
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AuthorHello, I'm Kim Hitzges. I am a writer, photographer, and mixed media artist who is following the magic that guides my life. Archives
June 2021
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