Small black braille dot tattoo running in a line along the side of a foot, photographed on a white surface.

Braille dot tattoo along a foot

Other · Black and grey · Photo

A close photograph of a line of small black dots arranged as braille cells across the side of a bare foot. The dots are solid and evenly spaced, with clean, minimal linework and no shading. The ink is black against pale skin, and the tattoo fills the middle of a plain, light-coloured frame.

Other Dot Foot

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Hush now, and mind the fire, for the snow has shut the pass and nobody leaves the Lantern Inn before the thaw. I'll tell you about Marta Hollin, who kept the place above Carrow Gap, and the letters she read with her fingertips, because the lamplight had gone from her eyes long before the war.

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Her brother Tobias went to sea and wrote to her every quarter. He pressed his words into thick grey paper with a steel stylus, one small cell of six dots at a time, so that she could run her thumb along each line by the window and know exactly what he meant. Four winters he wrote. Then in the fifth, a letter came in October, and its last line held only a single cell, pressed so hard the paper tore at the edge, as if the stylus had slipped in a hurry.

She read it so often the paper softened like cloth. The ship would make the last crossing before the ice closed the harbour, he wrote, and he would walk up from the quay in the dark. The landlord laughed into his ale and said no sensible man walks the pass in December. Marta said her brother had never been sensible in his life, and she set the lamp on the sill anyway and left the shutters open.

The snow came down for nine days. On the tenth morning the frost on the inside of the glass had been written over in small round dots, and beneath them someone had traced one short cell of six, the way Tobias always ended his letters, so that she would know it was him and not the weather.