Devjani BodepudiMemories are what life, and tattoos are made ofThere’s no way to ignore it. The sad little lotus on my right arm, looks wilted and uncared for. It needs revamping. But when I look at it, I’m reminded of that dewy morning I took the bus with Poet Rob. Hungover, still buzzing from my newly found freedom in thought and deed, we embarked upon drawing a memory forever on my arm.
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