Hello, hello, cheers to you for locating this page! You only need to love one of the following three things to continue reading: stories, friends, or tattoos.
My name is Sam and I adore all three of those things! Raised in a town stuck between Detroit and Ann Arbor Michigan, I moved to New York City to attend The King’s College. Here are all the landmarks you need to know, in no particular order: became best friends with my roommate, read too many short stories, became a business major, fished my friend out of the Hudson River, interned in a development department, won a few volleyball competitions (go lions), became a Christian, started biting my nails again, and learned a lot from unexpected acquaintances. All stories here are worth telling. Big, small, stupid, profound, and spontaneous.
I expected to move to New York and to be lonely. If I had one or two close friends, that would have been enough for me. Funnily enough, that’s not how I was welcomed. I found friends in odd places such as the doorman for the building across the street from mine and the woman who makes my Dunkin order. They were happy to share their stories with me. Devon, the doorman, just paid of his IRS debt and now he can save up to visit his daughter. Even on the most discouraging, cold days, Devon’s smile warms up the street.
Under whose authority am I creating a blog on tattoos? None. Then why on earth would I want to make this? This isn’t a tattoo blog, it’s a story telling blog. To be truthful, I am too terribly terrified of needles and commitment to ever put a tattoo on my body. How unfortunate and ironic? I love tattoos. I find them delightful interruption of ink from the average tube of arm fat. In creating this page, I am in no way claiming to be an expert of tattoos. I am here as a student and a storyteller for tattoos and their owners.