Close photo of a fine line script tattoo of the word bliss with a trailing line on the inner forearm, near the wrist.

Bliss script on inner forearm

Fine line · Forearm · Black and grey · Photo

A close photograph of a thin black script tattoo spelling the word bliss, with a single hairline stroke running from the end of the lettering down the arm. The tattoo sits on the inner forearm and is shown in sharp focus against lightly tanned skin. The framing is tight, cropped around the arm, with a dark top at the bottom edge and part of a woman's lips visible at the top left.

Fine line Lettering Forearm Script Word 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 last canvas came down on a Tuesday in October, and Nell Harrow sat on an upturned crate with a sign-writer's brush in her fist, trying to make her hand stop shaking. The posters had been lying for years. Dunne's Travelling Circus promised lions, marvels and a flying woman, but what it had now was a faded blue tent, a bear that had outlived its act, and two ponies that pulled the water cart.

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Old Teodor, who had painted every banner since the war, had left her one job before his chest gave out. Letter the name of the final act on the board by the gate, he'd said. Write it small, small things last. She chose a single word and wrote it in a slanting hand, then drew the thin line that had kept her alive in the air for twenty-two years, running from the last letter down to the stake in the grass, the way the wire ran from the high platform to the ground.

That night she climbed the ladder one final time, unspooled the wire with its familiar hum, and walked it barefoot with her arms out, the fairground lamps dimming below her. Halfway across she stopped, something she had never once done in performance, and looked down at the board by the gate, small and black and certain in the lamplight.

She finished the crossing. At the far platform she unhooked the rope, let it slide into the wet grass, and climbed down to feed the ponies, who would need their supper before anyone thought to ask where the circus had gone.