Close-up of a fine line black tattoo of a heart merged with an infinity symbol on a woman's inner wrist, with her hand resting in a jeans pocket.

Fine line heart and infinity on the wrist

Fine line · Forearm · Black and grey · Photo

A thin black outline of an infinity symbol whose upper loop forms a heart sits on the inner wrist or lower forearm. The linework is even and clean with no shading, and the skin around it is a soft neutral tone. The tattoo is small and placed near the centre-right of the frame, with the hand in a dark denim pocket and a lace top at the left.

Fine line Forearm Heart Infinity symbol Outline

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Dear Marguerite,

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The pear at the bottom of Mr Ashdown's allotment has finally set fruit, and I owe you a letter for the cuttings. You will remember that wet February at your kitchen table, the grafting knife slipping on the wax and the twine going slack in our fingers. Mother said we would never get a union. Well, the join has taken. The old root and the new wood are one run of sap now, and when I pressed my thumb to the seam last Tuesday it was warm, as if the tree had been holding its breath for a month.

The trouble is the Conference pear we grafted onto the Williams stock has gone its own way. It sends its shoots up the eastern side of the trunk, straight as church candles, and the Williams wood bends round to meet them. Mr Ashdown calls it a sulk. I call it a loop. If you stand by the gate in the late afternoon and squint, the two limbs make a figure of eight with a notch at the top where they nearly touch, and I have started thinking of it as a heart that never quite finishes closing.

I drew it in the bed with a bamboo cane this morning, before the rain came in off the Downs. Round, then pinched, then down and round again. Mr Ashdown leaned on his fork and said it looked like a pair of spectacles someone had sat on. He is probably right. Still, I stood there in the wet with the cane in my hand longer than I meant to.

Come in June, if the trains behave. I will save you the first pear from the loop. Bring the knife. We have one more graft to make before the sap drops, and I would rather not do it alone.

Your loving sister, Helen