There is the sealing stigma and marginalization because of that which is numbing, neutralizing, crippling, paralyzing in the long run. My ex lawyer counseled me using that term rather than tattoo, for well-known reasons. He was glad that he, himself escaped from that sobriquet of a decadent red hatter whose two meters tall, blonde inferior had filled his office up with cabbage so as to make him finally get the miraculous annunciation. The medium is infect indeed, but it is not propitious for inception nor conception, which requires regular health. Only bacteria, germs, fungus could divide and multiply, proliferate in those conditions. And it is least of all about cleaning, washing, deospraying, looking freshly clothed. With a little effort these could be done all right. There are all kinds of household equipment, it remains even time for a Scottish whiskey as well, or just as a catalyst to give force and diligence and industry and joy upon the soul. Afterwards even drive for a jogging race in the park could be another sort of effect.
The poverty trap is the most entrenching of all evils and deformities and disabilities in this world. The absolute lack of any reserves, nor plans, total lack of chances and predictability.
Oh! The weather is just fine, a sort of cold French winter, which I adore, and prefer to a mild polar Siberian one. The detonations of chinamade fireworks that are hooliganishly incrementally bursting out are insistently heralding the approach of the holidays and it becomes so sad that tears are flooding. And a smile.