He had a tattoo of a beautiful abstract woman with her arms up in the air, folded around to make circles, much like a wistful yoga stance. Her surreal existence was mysterious and elusive, but captivating and beautiful. A picture is worth a thousand words, yet hers rendered me speechless.
She welcomed me to admire her longer than I ever intended, while daring me not to break my stare. Then I blinked involuntarily and scrambled to realign my sight. This time my head was slightly askew, and Miss Enigma was no longer an exquisite, enchanting woman, because her arms that were bent so elegantly around had since become actual circles; her arms were no longer there. She wasn’t even there. Her silhouette had blended into the canvas of his more than perfect complexion.
The indelible ink endured, yet the image had changed. All that remained was the circles once outlined by her long, slender arms, but they were no longer just the shadows in the backdrop. They were no longer in the periphery. They were now the focal point-a pair of giant, supple tits-and that’s when I knew.
12 March 2010
The Plastic Pool Diagram by Sophia Blacke is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.
Rain Check The Reality Check 