Woman seen from behind with a black fine line script tattoo running vertically down the side of her back, placed beside her shoulder blade.

Fine script lettering down the back

Fine line · Back · Black and grey · Photo

A close view of a woman's bare back in a black halter-neck dress, with her hair tied up in a bun. A thin black cursive script runs vertically down the side of her back, below the shoulder blade, and reads as a short French phrase. The ink is a single dark tone on warm skin, with a plain dark background and a few people partly visible at the edges of the frame.

Fine line Lettering Back Script Text Phrase

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Thomas, the post boat is late again, so I have time to write properly, which I suspect you will take as a sign of my age. Your father's boots are still by the back door where you kicked them off. The damp has got into the laces and they smell of the shed. Madame Gaudin says I should give them to the church jumble, but I told her a pair of boots is not a thing a woman gets over quickly.

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Yesterday I finally cleared the workbench. Under the tin of rusted nails I found a card, the kind the chandler used to print for the tide tables, and on the back in his square hand he had written Vivre à contre-courant. Live against the current. I laughed out loud in the empty shed. He never went further than Quimper, you know, and he talked about Brest for thirty years as if it were the far side of the moon. I had always thought he meant the sea was the only current worth fighting.

So I did what he would have been too stubborn to do. I scrubbed the boots with the brush from the scullery, worked dubbin into the leather until the cracks softened, and bought two new laces from Pierre at the chandlery, the blue ones he kept for the regatta. It took most of the morning, and my knuckles are still sore.

The parcel goes on the eleven o'clock boat, wrapped in yesterday's newspaper. I have tucked the card inside the left boot, under the tongue, where your foot will find it on the cliff path. Walk in them. Come home when the tide turns, if you like, but do not come back for my sake.

Your aunt, Solange