My name is Rinus Souisa. I’m seventy years old, and if life has taught me anything, it’s that the road you travel rarely leads where you expected.

I grew up with limited opportunities and little formal education. Reading and writing were never my favourite things, but I learned from life, from the people around me and from the experiences that shaped me.

I also learned what it means to be judged before someone even takes the time to get to know you. Those experiences stayed with me. They shaped the way I see the world, the choices I’ve made and the stories I’ve carried with me.

THE PEOPLE BEHIND THE STORIES

For as long as I can remember, people have told me their stories.

Sometimes they’re people I’ve known for years. Sometimes they’re complete strangers who, for reasons I can’t always explain, feel comfortable sharing things they may never have told anyone else.

I’ve heard stories of love, grief, illness, injustice, courage and regret. Some have stayed with me for decades.

I’ve never believed that listening is simply about hearing someone’s words. It’s about trying to understand what lies behind them, without judging.

That understanding became an important part of my work. And eventually, it found its way into my writing.

A LIFE IN INK

In 1991, I opened my first tattoo studio. What began as a profession gradually became something much bigger.

I became involved in medical tattooing, helping people who had undergone surgery, suffered injuries or lived with the visible consequences of illness.

Working alongside plastic surgeons and other medical specialists, I helped establish medical tattooing as a valuable part of reconstructive care in the Netherlands.

But my work went beyond treating patients.

For twelve years, I served as chairman of the Dutch Tattoo Artists’ Association. During that time, I was closely involved in efforts to improve hygiene, safety and professional standards in the tattoo industry.

But those responsible for making the decisions in The Hague seemed unwilling to listen to the people who actually knew the profession.

We wanted the hygiene and safety standards we had developed through years of practical experience to be recognised and established in law. Instead, decisions were made by people who showed little understanding of our work.

It took decades before the regulations began to reflect what we had been advocating from the start.

I also developed a tattoo machine specifically designed for medical tattooing, because I believed that specialised work deserved equipment suited to its purpose.

Together with my wife, Loes, I travelled internationally to share our knowledge of medical tattooing, hygiene and safe working practices. From Los Angeles to Auckland, we met professionals, exchanged ideas and helped others develop their skills.

For someone with little formal education, finding myself teaching, developing techniques and working alongside medical specialists was never something I could have imagined as a young boy.

Yet the most important part of my work was never the equipment, the professional recognition or the places I visited.

It was always the person sitting in front of me.

Behind every scar was a life. Behind every treatment was a story. Sometimes painful, sometimes hopeful, and often deeply personal.

Those encounters taught me more about human nature than any classroom ever could.

THE STORIES NEVER STOPPED

Throughout my life, music was always there.

My older brothers introduced me to the blues, soul and rock and roll of the sixties and seventies. That music made a lasting impression on me.

It was raw, honest and full of emotion. You could hear the lives those musicians had lived in every note.

I began writing my own stories more than fifty years ago.

About growing up, prejudice, injustice, friendship, love, loss and the people whose lives crossed mine. About things I witnessed, promises that mattered and experiences I could never quite forget.

Through these stories, I also hope to make people realise that a lack of formal education doesn’t mean a lack of ability. Most people see the world in two dimensions. I’ve learned to see it in three.

Over the years, writing became my way of making sense of the world around me.

But for decades, those stories remained on paper.

I could hear the music in my head, yet I never had the musical skills to turn those ideas into complete songs.

A NEW CHAPTER — MXXioN

For most of my life, I was too busy trying to survive to give my stories the attention they deserved.

I spent years standing up against injustice, fighting bureaucracy and trying to make people listen. Too often, my knowledge and experience were dismissed, simply because I didn’t have the education or qualifications others expected.

But I never stopped. I kept going, even when nobody seemed willing to believe me.

Now, at seventy, life has finally given me something I rarely had before: time.

Time to look back, to reflect, and to turn the stories I’ve carried for so many years into music.

Some come from my own experiences. Others come from people I met during my years as a tattoo artist, a medical tattoo specialist and a doorman. People who trusted me with moments of their lives, sometimes without realising how deeply their stories would stay with me.

With the help of new technology, I can finally give those stories a musical voice.

That is how MXXioN came to life.

I’m not trying to please everyone, and I don’t expect everyone to agree with me. I simply want to tell these stories as honestly as I can.

For much of my life, I used ink to help people reclaim something of themselves.

Now I have the time to do something with everything life has taught me.

And this time, I’m telling it through music.

My Story – My Voice – My Soul