Children of the WIld Ones
I could sit here and ramble on about my self but that would bore even the most forbearing of us. But allow me to bring you up to speed. I'm just starting to figure out this business most call family -In doing so I've met some pretty amazing people along the way. Come join me as I awkwardly navigate through this conundrum known as life finding family, friends, and a home while trying not to be arrested, lost, or killed
Man, you guys know how I am about tattoos
They interest me. They say so much about a person. What they believe in. Who they are. What they’ve been through. I guess they interest me because it tells a part of their story.
What’s more interesting is where they’re located. Simon’s got one on his neck, never bothers to hide it. Iakov on his shoulders, hides them when he’s out but not necessarily around people he knows. Ruger on her leg flaunting them about as if trying to make them known.
And then there’s Ludwig, never would have even guessed such a serious, ocd, straight-clean, white-and-black personality could would want a tattoo. If it hadn’t have been for the hospital this weekend I probably would have never seen it. What I wanna know is what it means (and as always too shy to ask). Maybe someone out there knows.
It’s in German (surprise!) and I think it said something like Alte Bundesland but what really got my attention was the almost Celtic design of an eagle, but it had two heads, and it didn’t look like the typical German eagle… it was fancy… anyone catching my drift? It was on his back which, obviously, makes it easy to hide, but like right under his left shoulder blade…kinda?
I know its a shot in the dark, and I know I should ask him myself, but I always feel like I’m digging into business/personal space I shouldn’t know about. But I admire them so, and trust me, getting to know this guy is crazy difficult. Anybody got an idea?
Such a deep meaning for such simple ink
In the Summer of 2004, just after signing his name away to the RAF, he stepped into a small tattoo parlor in the sleepy eyed town of Portee. Plopping down onto the stool he handed the older man the money he had been saving for the deed, tilting his head to point to the smooth skin just behind the right hinge of his jaw, on the firm muscle beneath his ear with a smile on his face, “Make it a roman four.”
Thinkin’ about gettin’ a tattoo. Like a kickass lunar moth on the side of my neck or something…. like right behind/under my ear.
