Close view of black script lettering tattooed on the back of a hand, with a dark shirt sleeve and a white shirt label visible beside it.

Black script lettering on the back of a hand

Lettering · Hand · Black and grey · Photo

The photograph shows the back of a hand and part of a dark shirt sleeve against a plain white background. The tattoo is a flowing black script with looping strokes across the back of the hand, and the individual letters are not clearly legible at this size. The image is mostly neutral dark tones with soft, even lighting and a tight crop on the arm and hand.

Lettering Hand Script Lettering

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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

Ada Penhallow kept the post at Sallow Wells, where the tarmac gave up and the sand took over the last forty miles to the coast. Once a week the mail lorry dropped a sack at her door, and once a week she sorted it on the counter under a ceiling fan that never stopped turning.

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The letter came in the autumn, folded small and sealed with wax the colour of a plum. The hand on the front was all loops and tails, joined so tightly that the address looked like a fence someone had drawn in a hurry. There was no return. Just one word pressed hard into the flap, and she could not tell whether it was a name or a warning.

She did what the old postmaster had taught her and carried it out to the road to ask the first car that stopped. A farmer's wife in a blue pickup squinted through the windscreen and said it looked like Arabic she had forgotten. A boy on a bicycle said it looked like his grandad's signature. Nobody could say who it was for, so Ada kept it in her apron pocket for three days.

On the fourth morning she walked out past the last fence post and wrote her reply on the back of a seed catalogue, in capitals so plain a child could read them: I CANNOT READ THIS EITHER. She weighted it with a stone and left it on the sand. By noon the wind had taken the catalogue and folded it into the dunes, and the loops of the first letter had gone soft in her pocket, as if the sand had already started to learn them.