Close photograph of a small black fine line tattoo of angular letter-like marks joined by a horizontal line, sitting on the inside of a wrist.

Angular letter marks on a wrist

Lettering · Forearm · Black and grey · Photo

A fist is held up against a pavement and green foliage, showing a small tattoo on the inside of the wrist. The design is three angular, letter-like marks hanging from a long horizontal line, with a short vertical stroke at the left end. The linework is thin and solid black with no shading or colour, and the design sits centrally on the wrist with plenty of clear skin around it.

Lettering Fine line Forearm Letter Symbol Line

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Take it to an artist as a reference. A good artist will make it yours rather than copy someone else's tattoo.

A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The rain has been coming sideways across the Thursday market since before the awnings went up, and Mr Okonedo's wire is already sagging under the weight of wet card. You know the routine by now. String the line between the two steel posts, then clip the letters on so every stall can read its name from the far end of the yard. He will not let you use the good clips. Those, he says, are for the words that matter, and he sends you back to the van for tape.

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The letters today are three tin shapes his brother cut in Bradford, F, P and E, and they should spell FISH PIE for Ada Penhale's pitch by the bins. Ada has not sold a pie since March. Her daughter came in a hired car and took her to Hull, and the stall has stood empty ever since, its sign still folded in the back of the van. The old man holds the E up to the grey light and turns it like a key. 'Hang it where the bus can see,' he says. 'Nobody wants fish pie. Let them stare.'

You clip the F, then the P, and the wire hums as the tin takes the wind. When you reach the E he stops you. 'Not that clip,' he says, and hands you one of the brass ones he keeps for weddings and funerals. Water is running off the brim of his cap now, dripping onto the tarmac in a ragged line. You fix the E at the far end so it hangs over the empty pitch, and the three letters swing together, and he tells you what they stand for: the three who strung the first wire here before the market had a roof, and never once agreed on the price of anything.

He goes back to the van for his tea. Behind you the rain keeps falling through the gap in the E, and for a while the whole yard is quiet enough to hear it drip.