My younger life was filled with silence, taboos, unspeakables. Seventy years later the mind holds the experience of story, of books, of relationships. When I see a story symbol on someone ‘s arm I wonder . The full blown expression of ourselves indelibly inked into that arm. Our songs of ourselves began with poet soldier Walt Whitman. The classics endure. Yet as extreme as a tattoo is, The art of expression in its myriad forms is Upon us. The trauma of our youth embraces In film in politics in books in poetry of today.