Close crop of a woman's upper arm and shoulder showing a black fine line script tattoo running down the outer arm, in a lettering style.

Fine line script tattoo on upper arm

Fine line · Upper arm · Black and grey · Photo

The image shows a close crop of a woman's upper arm and shoulder, wearing a black lace-trimmed bralette, with the face out of frame. A thin black handwritten script runs vertically down the outer upper arm, with the words partly visible, including 'by the sun'. The linework is fine and even, and the tattoo is the only colour in a plain, neutral, softly lit scene.

Fine line Lettering Upper arm Script Handwriting Word Quote

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The oven at Hollin Bank had been cold for three days when Esther Crane came down the stairs with her shoes in her hand. Her father had sold the flour mill in the spring, and the bakery was all that was left of the family: a long room with a brick oven and a window that faced east over the wall.

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Nobody in the village could remember a morning when the bread was not ready before the light. That was the rule her grandmother had set and her father had kept. You lit the fire in the dark, you kneaded in the dark, and when the first gold touched the top of the church tower you pulled the loaves out and stacked them on the sill to cool. Dawn was the bell, not the clock.

This morning the fire would not take. Esther knelt with the bellows and the wet kindling and heard her father's voice say, as it always had, that a fire is only the sun kept indoors for an hour. She had thought that a foolish thing to say. She blew until her cheeks ached.

When the light came, it came low and flat across the yard, and the oven was still grey inside. A shadow crossed the glass, a boy from the lane with a sack of rye on his shoulder, who had walked up in the dark because he had heard the bakery would be open. He saw her face and set the sack down. "Light it from the outside," he said. "The way the sun does. Start at the edge and let it walk in." She did. The fire went round the inside of the dome like a slow tide, and by the time the sun cleared the tower the oven was roaring, and the bread, which had been waiting all along, went in.