Black lettering reading EVERY BOOK IS A WORLD above an open book, in a lettering style, on the inner wrist.

Every book is a world with open book on wrist

Lettering · Forearm · Black and grey · Photo

The tattoo shows the words EVERY BOOK IS A WORLD in a serif lettering style set in two lines, with an open book drawn beneath them. The lettering uses fine, even black linework and the pages of the book are shaded with dense black lines that fan out from the spine. It is in black ink only, placed on the inner wrist and photographed against a plain background.

Lettering Forearm Book Open book Text Quote Wrist

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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

Right, sit where the radiator won't bite you, and mind the wobble in the lino. Fourteenth floor of Carrow House, lift broken again, so you've earned your chair. Now, the book. Nobody on this landing has seen it since the winter the boiler went, but my mother swore it could carry you anywhere you had the nerve to go, provided you read it with the curtains open and the kettle on.

Keep reading

It was a library book once, 1971, with a date stamp gone grey on the edge and a card pocket glued inside the back cover. Mrs Okonedo from number nine borrowed it and never took it back. She said the pages were thicker than paper ought to be, dark along the spine from a thousand thumbs, and that when you riffled them they sounded like rain coming in off the estuary. Wind through a flag, she said. Wind through a sail.

Her grandson Dev was nine and sulking about a football he'd lost down the bins. He opened the book on the balcony, and the car park below went quiet. The lamp posts became masts. The bin lorry rocked like a trawler at anchor, and somewhere a gull was shouting the names of the flats. Dev read until the streetlights blinked on, every word in a voice that wasn't his own, and when his gran called him in for tea he did not come.

Mrs Okonedo never got her book back. Dev still has it, and on Tuesdays he reads it to the boy in number twelve, who listens with his mouth open. Whenever the lift shudders, I tell him the same thing I'm telling you. Keep the curtains open. The sea is always just past the next page.