When I was 22, I watched my then-girlfriend get a tattoo. She lay on her side, clutching and releasing my hand in a rhythm steady as a heartbeat, wincing and fighting the tears as she tried to stay still and endure the pain that comes when a massive treble clef is inked across the ribcage. The tattoo itself was nothing particularly memorable, but the quote that accompanied it stuck with me: “When words fail, music speaks.”
Meredith Foster 