letters to aught

to the albanian tattoo artist

receiver's address: the reclaimed bunker.

sender's address: surfing the waves

subject: the world decamps with charm, bows out singing a zephyr-like psalm. you'll turn around, and without warning, all you're left with is sangfroid calm.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

dear sir,

a decade since i heard your needle,
indeed, the world decamps with charm,
i wouldnt agree when i told you goodbye,
but now, i smile down on my arm.

i distinctly remember your inked hands, working in perfect, rhythmic sync. calloused, scarred, yet meticulously delicate and methodically distinct. hands that gifted permanence in this fleeting life, even if just mere drops of ink. a gift i thought ran skin deep, but just like that, everything changed in a blink.

i distinctly remember your dusty bunker, with artwork hanging crookedly wherever my timid but curious eyes would land. your bunker, a symbol of brutal local history, transformed into a tattoo parlour. it reeked of change, of letting go, reclaiming yourself, concepts i mingled with fear at the time.

i distincly remember only that part of my trip to albania, when my parents walked in for a tattoo.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"tattoos are such a comforting concept, to have something that never changes", i'd said.

"what do you love so much that you want tattooed on your hand forever, little miss?" you said with a laugh.

"i don't want anything or anyone to change. so i want an anchor someday" i thought it was a witty thing at the time.

"an anchor, hmm. oh, do you want a drawing on your hand? you see, i can't quite let people walk out without staining them with ink" you smiled.

"okay" i hesitantly replied.

i closed my eyes because nine year old me thought a drawing would hurt like tattoos, so before i knew it you were done.

"this isn't an anchor!!! " i cried out. you just smiled.

"a little gift for the little miss. because the world decamps with charm, bows out singing a zephyr-like psalm. you'll turn around, and without warning, all you're left with is sangfroid calm." you hummed away into the buzzing of your needle.

"i beg your pardon?" but my parents were done, so without further ado and any explanation from you, we left.

i stared at it through the streets of albania,
those twisted lines that made no sense,
but something about it i could never wash off,
something drawn on my mind, so dark and dense.

i dreaded you since the moment i knew what you drew,
a zibu symbol, for "begin anew."
a supposed blessing, to which i was averse,
i'd asked for an anchor, then why this curse?

i drew it in my notebook to tear it down, for some counter magic to reverse your "blessing". but i couldn't. i couldn't tear it down. so i hid it in the darkest corners far away from me, never to see it again.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

your bunker and inkpot, my left arm and my small, safe world i'd created dabbling around with pens ; we've all revolved and evolved around and under the sun for a decade.

i did not believe in magic, manifestation, tarot or the like, but pure intentions cannot be dimmed by the darkest of nights. i've thought of it accusedly everytime the tide ebbed away from my life, but in some twisted, magical, blessed way, it has always comforted me despite.

i do not know how, or why, but yesterday i remembered where i trashed the zibu symbol, and immediately, impulsively with an other worldly pull, i went to get it tattoed on my arm, in the same place you once drew it.

i finally learnt that forever's a crime,
blooming flowers wilt just in time,
comfort withers, we all come off fine,
have faith, let go and write a new line.

it's been a decade of spiralling change, and surfing away has always done me more good than holding onto an anchor ever would.

thankyou, i will always believe it was the untainted intention with which you drew it on my arm that has made me stronger each day. i hope this letter finds you in an inked blend of remembering and reclaiming the past all while embracing the present.

yours and forever blessed,
(not so) little miss.

______________________________________

a/n: apologies if this was a bit confusing, i hope this clears it out:

i had the idea for this one from the youtube video attached above, do watch it, it's totally worth it and will clear out alot.

references/symbolism

albanian bunkers: (shown in image) for around 40 years, albania was ruled by paranoid dictator enver hoxha who built over 173,000 bunkers to prepare for war. transformed bunker is a symbol of remembering and grieving the repressive regime while reclaiming the country's past.

zibu symbol: they're art allegedly used to give you emotional stability and strength and enhance your energy. it is said that these can only work when the intentions of the one who draws them are pure. i've referred to the symbol for "begin anew" (image below)

thankyou for reading, drop in any questions/suggestions you have <3