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Mark Twain House in Hartford, Connecticut. (Tattoo photo)

Mark Twain's house is an awesome crib
Imagine floating down a river on a raft, living by the day, with adventures waiting beyond every bend. That, ladies and gentlemen, is what Mark Twain was thinking when he wrote The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn. – By Joe Keo

Tattoo writers Katie Jordan and Joe Keo outside the Mark Twain House in Hartford, Connecticut. (Tattoo photo)

Mischievous words, etched in stone
It took a few moments for my eyes to adjust to the dimness as I stepped from the bright, sunny outside world into a hallway so stark and bare that it might have resembled the entrance to a cave more than the entrance to a museum, if not for the gift shop to the right, the two benches, and the desk where visitors check in.

Many museums try to nab their visitors right away, either with showy displays to catch the eye from the first instant, or with some pushy guide who pounces on you the moment you enter, eager to herd you along while talking a mile a minute.

So for the first instant I was caught off guard by the quiet and emptiness of that first hallway. It actually echoed — or maybe that was just my imagination. But it was the sort of place that looked like it should echo, a dim corridor with cold stone walls and cold stone floors. It was a little eerie, actually. I kept expecting that pushy guide to jump out at me at any second and take me by surprise. – By Katie Jordan

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