The monk appears and ushers us into his office. We kneel a few feet away; careful to keep our feet properly positioned, pointing away from him. He projects a calm, respectful mood and asks why we have come. My friend interprets as I answer that I am a tattooer and a writer in New York City who has come to see the tattooing at the temple. The monk smiles and thanks me for my interest. He directs a subordinate to give me several bound booklets that will help me in my project. They are all written in curlicue Thai script. The monk asks to see my tattoos and squints at the work on my arms, nodding in appreciation of the Buddhist script I have. He blesses us, whispering a long series of sentences in a voice that oscillates high and low. I raise my hands to my forehead and say, Kop-Khun-Mana-Kop- thank you very much.