How many times have you, the tattooer, been asked to execute a Medusa’s head? Not nearly as often as it has been requested have I been given the freedom to break away from the typical wet lethargy that so many Medusa pieces convey and arrange a woman that I would welcomely turn to stone for.
I don’t know what that was supposed to mean at all. The first sentence seemed provocative enough to get something of a ball rolling but ended up going nowhere. I had hoped that I would have some lengthy explanation as to why I loved this tattoo so much but I don’t think I really care to convert thoughts into clear sentences today. I love this tattoo. That’s all I got.
