I love music like others love oxygen. In the morning, I don't set an alarm — I blast punk rock at full volume so my heart remembers: you're alive. Music is my permission to be loud.

Tattoos are my second skin. Each one is a notch on the belt: it hurt, I was scared, but I didn't break. My body is my diary.

I want to live life to the fullest. That means toxic green hair because tomorrow is too late. Dancing in the rain on club steps at 3 a.m. Saying "yes" to something terrifying. Even if it ends in a bruise — it'll be my bruise, and I'll wear it with pride.

I'm a tattoo artist. While the needle buzzes and metal blasts from the speakers, I tune someone's soul to the right frequency.

Because I'm Ronny. And silence is the only thing that scares me