Não sei ser objetiva sobre mim mesma se meus objetivos já nem sei

Criatura.

I’ve never known how to breathe
in any other way
painting, music, calligraphy, gastronomy, writing, photography, tattooing.

Restlessness has been with me since childhood—
a not-that-quiet unease,
always reaching for air.

I imagine myself as a whale: I dive deep,
but I have to rise to the surface to express myself.

With this short breath, I tattoo.

Nothing that rushes me, but
moves me and moves moves moves me.

To pigment intensely.
To heighten contrasts.
To paint that solo ray of sunlight that cuts through the dark forest.

My relationship with nature is conflicted.
I want to run through rose gardens and bleed on what is beautiful,
but I lie down in fields of daisies that barely touch my skin.*

Plants say so much to us, and I talk so much to them.
Sometimes, they say everything.

Put another way, I make high-contrast botanical tattoos.