You never came.
In between cities and airports. Not once.
Someone I met briefly in the city I fell in love with told me my new tattoo was in fact that city’s symbol.
I have been meaning to get a new one made. And my disinterest in shopping for high end brands led me to decide that the best souvenir to bring home of Italy was a new tattoo.
Failing to book an artist while in Milano, I searched the net for a tattoo shop near my hotel in Roma. I was ecstatic when I received the sms response saying it was possible to do it on the day I’m scheduled to fly out of Roma. I still had no idea what to put.
The next day, I was on the train to Firenze. And I instantly fell in love. This is my city in Italy. Walking around on cobblestones exploring the gigantic public art was truly memorable.
And then I found my new tattoo. Though I had this done in another city which I honestly felt was too tourist-y and too cold.
Imagine getting off the train from Firenze then having lunch and then taking the bus to the Colosseo and then a subway ride to the Vatican. I have been truly blessed to have managed to drop in that small and warm shop minutes away from my hotel. We were done in 30 minutes. I liked talking to my Italian artist. And we had cold beer right after.
And now I still remember her. I will always think about her whenever I see my new tattoo. She was like a rough cut gem. A bit big and rugged but brimming with sensuality nonetheless. I only caught glimpses of her femininity while she drove me to the entrance of the city. Her hair. Her lips. Her hands rubbing her chin in a very unwomanly way.
And yesterday she asked me to send her a photo of my new tattoo. Why do I find this such a turn on?