so I said to the tattoo'd bodybuilder...
the journal of Michael Werneburg
twenty-seven years and one million words
Toronto, 2012.10.09
I dropped off a rental car and subsequently found myself on the subway this morning. There was a bodybuilder on my car in one of those bodybuilder sub-t-shirts. He had a tattoo of Atlas carrying the globe over his massively muscled shoulder.
The proportions of the continents were wrong. Very wrong, it took me a moment to realize that it was Earth. I never say anything critical of people's tattoos—what would be the point. But in this case I extra said nothing.