the blue room

Picture of the Day
yesterday | today tomorrow

October 17, 02001

People want to talk about current events. Make your peace, I say (a good idea anyday). I have seen tattoos blur and fade. Nothing is permanent but change. The old bicycles hang from the ceiling at Anchor Tattoo in Ballard. After dinner, we step in with Charlie, Jim, and Denise to admire the lowrider in the window. The guy at the counter is lost in his work, perfect universe, drawing designs to adorn the skin--a pattern, a symbol, rolled-up sleeve so eloquent. Back outside, Dave calls from Hattie's Hat. We were just there. How did we miss him? Up and down the block we go, past a weedy lot with large office desks in two rows. The building is gone, the walls are ghosts, metal rusts, grass grows.