When I was a child, my twin Aunts would mind me during the days when my mother was at work. It was a small town in outback Queensland, where time moved a little slower and the paint peeled under the scorching summer sun.

My Aunts owned the local coffee shop, and their resident daily show up was me.

I’d be sat in a high chair, right by the back door, with a Cheezel stuck over each finger and a beetroot sandwich in hand. Enough to keep me occupied during the morning rush.

As a teenager, my aunt would reminisce on my childhood with a smile from ear to ear. I reminded her each day, as I sat up in that high chair with purple stained cheeks and the burnt orange crumbs of Cheezel all over my arms - “It’s okay Auntie, I will look after you when I’m big.”

A few years ago, my Aunt was diagnosed with a terminal illness and within months, she passed.

It wasn’t too long ago now, that I decided to take those fond memories and etch them into my every day. Much the way she made me her every day. I decided to get her name tattooed on my arm so that every day I am reminded of her.

Tattoos are not only a beautiful form of art, but they’re also a storybook. Tattoos allow us to tell beautifully heartwarming stories through art - this is one of mine.