When I was young, I always thought that I would get a single tattoo. Just one, black ink — my name, perhaps (one of them, anyway). Some of the first tattoos I saw and liked belonged to a few family friends — brothers who got their names in Arabic, I think, with the tree from the flag of Lebanon (they’re of Lebanese descent). It was strong, personal, timeless. Seeing their tattoos may have been the first time I decided that I wanted a tattoo.
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