Quartered

Cleverly disguising my outright panic with Lord of the Rings references, I am up WAY past my bedtime.

Guys -- Feressa, AutumnTeaLeaf, I can't remember who else -- please. Please, be subtle about this. A whole gaggle of people suddenly posting about someone's mysterious tattoo, on the blog of a tattoo remover? Come on!

Look, you know what a hard time immigrants get on this side of sleep. It isn't all roses on the other side. And there are cross-overs, sometimes, where intentions and motivations are concerned, and people who... Look, I don't want to come off all miserly and cowed, but I was so relieved to find this place, to find you and read your stories, and I don't want to see it vanish like it never was, I don't want to have to start looking out my window for blue Datsuns or whatnot, though maybe that's just in the US -- but dammit, we have CCTV here.

Anyway. My point is... Keep it secret. Keep it safe. Please. Share it as you would your most precious things -- tenderly, with care. For everyone's sake.

I'm sorry. About the secret. I just don't know what it is. I read a lot here and now I am pretty sure it's not a dream. Or that we are all having the same dream, but I don't think that's clinically possible. I haven't even asked my boyfriend about it because after reading everything here, I am afraid he will get angry or disappear. And his skin is so warm, I would miss him.

I think there are classier ways to find people than tattoo-removal parlors, but I don't see why we should always keep things secret.

Enough of us have visible marks that the city will become public eventually.

We have a duty to keep this place little-known, to keep it from being exploited, broken open, destroyed.

The city loves us, even though it doesn't always understand how to express it.