Man seen from behind in a white slogan T-shirt, with dark tattoos visible on his forearm and upper arm as he walks down a narrow street.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Back view of slogan tee with arm tattoos

Forearm · Black and grey · Photo

A man is photographed from behind on a narrow paved street, wearing a white T-shirt printed with the slogan 'No place for homophobia, fascism, sexism, racism, hate' and a dark cap. He holds a plastic water bottle in one hand, and dark tattoos are visible on his forearm and upper arm. The tattoo detail is partly hidden and small in the frame, so the design cannot be made out, while the shop-front street setting fills the background.

Forearm Upper arm T-shirt Slogan Man Arm tattoo

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The shop on Fenwick Street had its name painted across the window in gold leaf, and it was Ada who had to re-letter it every spring, because the damp got under the size and lifted the gilt in flakes. She had done it for eleven years without once thinking about the letters themselves. This year she sat on an upturned crate in the lane behind the street with a sable brush in one hand and a jar of water in the other, counting the strokes of the capital R out loud, the way her father had taught her.

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A boy came down the lane with a bottle of squash and stopped to watch. He asked why she bothered with gold when vinyl would last longer and cost nothing. She told him vinyl did not catch the light at four o'clock, and that people walked slower past things that caught the light. He considered this and decided it was daft. Then he read the words on the next door upside down, the way children do, and asked what they meant. A man had sprayed them in black overnight, and the council had not yet scrubbed them off.

Ada looked at the black letters for a long while. Then she put the brush down, fetched a tin of white and a short flat brush, and painted over them in tidy capitals, one letter at a time, until the old words were gone and only her own were left: NO PLACE FOR HATE. The paint was still wet when the light changed. The boy said it looked better than the gold. She wiped her hands on her apron and said it was only paint, and that gold was for things you wanted people to stop and read.