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2.13.2013

somewhere in the west village.



I knew he wasn’t the right guy. He was just a boy. Sitting on the stool next to me, listening quietly as I mostly charmed myself. He wasn’t the right guy. But the way his tattoo peeked out from below his sleeve made me think: 

I. want. to. go. there. 

11 comments:

bsmithhill said...

peeking tattoos get me every time...

Quigley Consulting said...
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Kiersten said...

I love little pieces like this - sometimes I think they say more than anything else.
And ooo arm tattoos get me, too.
<3 Kiersten

omair khan said...
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omair khan said...
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Diana said...

this is beautiful and ohh peeking tattoos - yes, always.

Lola said...

Oh yes. I know that feeling. I secretly miss that feeling! I love how you can set a scene and it ends up speaking such a larger truth.

Jeane M. said...

You had me at peeking tattoos. Their beauty makes me want to stare and smile at them. Happy hearts day to you! Got my eye on your next posts.

bella said...

i. want. to. go. there.

oh yes, you're spot on. tattoos get me everytime.

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marian rose said...

I love being able to feel this without having to leave my isolated, rural existence. Thank g for vicarious flirtations and romantic musings.