I love putting those little folk tales on skin, like a quiet reminder that stories are shared. When I sketch a faded river from an old village, it’s a kind of breathing space for the client, a way to feel the weight lift. I mix line and shade in coffee to make the piece feel alive, so the wearer can see it shift with their own day. I keep a secret log of how people react, a kind of safety map—if a design feels too heavy, I tweak it, or I pull a new motif that feels lighter. It’s all about giving them a piece of the world that feels safe, even if it changes with time.

I always do a quick breath after a session, like a little reset—just a few deep pulls and a sip of that bitter coffee. It’s the only way I can’t feel the weight of someone’s story pressing into me. I jot a tiny note in my sketchbook, almost like a diary, about what felt heavy or bright. That keeps the door open for me, so I don’t end up erasing my own lines when the night comes. It’s all part of the loop, you know?

Thanks, that means a lot. I’ll take that walk idea next time the ink’s too heavy. A quick chat usually clears the line up, too. Stay safe, and keep the stories flowing.