Black script tattoo reading Don't stop believing... across the top of a foot, in a lettering style with a bold, joined stroke.

Don't stop believing script on a foot

Lettering · Other · Black and grey · Photo

A close photograph of a black script phrase reading Don't stop believing... across the top of a bare foot. The lettering uses a joined, slightly bold stroke with uniform black ink and some soft edge blur. The pale skin, green and orange background fabric and the foot filling most of the frame make up the composition.

Lettering Other Quote Text Phrase

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The bridge keeper's daughter had counted the lamps on Corran Bridge every night since the ferry went down in the November fog. There were forty-one of them, iron posts sweating in the damp, and by the third winter she could tell each one apart by its hum. The lamplighters had stopped coming after the gas company cut the contract. Now only the old lamps flickered on, and only when someone remembered to climb up with a taper.

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Her name was Nell Harrow. She was fourteen and stubborn about it. On the night the first snow fell, a boy called Piers Okonedo came up the steps with a box of matches and a grievance. His uncle ran the chandlery on Gull Street and had sent him to fetch the bridge key. 'You'll freeze up here,' he said. 'Nobody's coming.' Nell pointed at the dead lamp above them. 'My father said every light goes out eventually, and you climb the ladder anyway.' She pressed a stub of chalk into his palm. 'Write something on the glass. Then I'll know someone checked.'

Piers chose the words himself, scratching them in backwards so they would read true from the water: Don't stop believing... He wrote the dots slowly, one after another, trailing off towards the roofs where the chandlery's own lamp still burned. Nell climbed after him with the taper, and when the wick caught, the letters glowed faintly through the frost.

By dawn the gas men had come to see what the fuss was about. They found forty-one lamps lit and, on the post nearest the chandlery, a boy's careful writing still legible in the soot.