LOVE,PAİN AND TATTOO MASTER 0 BY ERKAN ZARIFPosted on 7 August 2014in Blog

I don't like hurting people while getting a tattoo, I borrowed the tattoo from a hurt man. Can a person's pain make a person a master at a job they never knew...? .Who knows maybe... I don't know what time it is at night, back from the bar, I'm coming in, gops! dark. Nothing can be seen in the hall, another darkness, even blackness in the dark, my pupils get used to the environment, my finger slowly reaches out and searches in the dark, the only sound is... I approach the silhouette, I bend down, the hair has fallen, I can't see his face, I call out "master"... no sound, I get closer, "what's wrong" the answer is very deep, as if climbing out of the dark well with his nails, it comes out as if he is struggling with his vocal cords "I can't breathe" I lift my head I look at the room I understand the room is getting bright I know it  cu c. Wuee üç was quiet, dark, breathless house because love is gone, left it in the room, even took its soul inside the heart, left the man transparent like a white ghost, he forgot the breath, he doesn't want to see the room because there is no red hair, there is no more left in the house, leftover from the previous night, he watched the popcorn in the corner Scattered pieces of hearts scattered about what's going on, there's nothing to do now you need to take the broom and sweep the broken heart pieces on the floor... it's time to change

You're trying to sweep an apprenticeship. The master is sad, I am sad anyway, after a while, the master takes him to a friend of his, a place I don't know, a different weather like another country, but the beautiful place is a sunny beach, yachts, beautiful cars, we enter a small shop as if the sun never sets. .. the place is nice, there is music, rock n roll plays (I love it :) where is this place, a new start will be started, a job will be stolen from the master, the conditions are suitable, a suitable tattoo parlor.

Love, Pain, Tattoo Master

By Erkan Zarif - Posted on 7 August 2014 in Blog

I despise causing pain to others while tattooing, and yet, I borrowed the art from a man already in pain. Can the agony of one transform another into a master of a craft they never knew? Who can tell? Maybe.

It's the middle of the night, the time unknown, as I stumble back from the bar. I enter the darkness, a deeper blackness engulfing the hall. As my eyes adjust, my fingers tentatively reach out, searching through the void. The only sound is my own breath. I approach a silhouette, bend down, and see hair fallen over an unseen face. I call out, "Master..." Silence. I move closer, "What's wrong?" The reply comes from the depths of despair, as if clawing its way out of a dark well, struggling through constricted vocal cords, "I can't breathe."

I lift my head, surveying the room as it brightens. I understand now: the room is silent, dark, and suffocating because love has left it. Love has taken its essence and spirit, leaving the man like a transparent ghost, breathless and empty. He avoids looking at the room, for it no longer holds the presence of red hair, not a trace of the past night. In the corner, scattered pieces of a shattered heart lay like leftover popcorn. There’s nothing to do now but take a broom and sweep away the broken fragments of the heart on the floor. It’s time for change.

You attempt to sweep up the remnants of apprenticeship. The master is sorrowful, and so am I. Eventually, the master takes me to a friend’s place, a location unknown to me, with an atmosphere like another country. It’s a beautiful place, with a sunny beach, yachts, and luxurious cars. We enter a small shop where the sun seems eternal. The place is inviting, with rock 'n' roll music playing (which I love!). Here, in this unfamiliar but charming setting, a new beginning awaits. The conditions are perfect, a fitting tattoo parlor for a fresh start.

1997

Erkan Zarif