Close view of a woman's bare back showing a thin black script line tattooed vertically along her side ribs, in fine line lettering.

Fine script quote along the side ribs

Fine line · Ribs · Black and grey · Photo

A vertical line of thin, black cursive lettering runs down the side of a bare back, following the curve of the ribs. The linework is fine and even, with no shading, and the ink is dark against warm skin. The tattoo sits centrally in the frame, with long brown hair falling over the shoulder and a dim, warm-toned background.

Fine line Lettering Ribs Script Quote Word Lettering

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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

The composing stick is cold in my hand before the foreman has finished his tea. Mr Ashdown wants the handbill for the Saturday market by noon, and the italic fount has run short of its e's again, so I am borrowing them from a drawer of old hymn sheets. Lead type is heavier than it looks. Set backwards and upside down, every letter has to be read in the mirror of my head before it can go into the frame.

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The line is only a few words, but Mrs Okonedo, who ordered it, was particular. She brought a scrap of paper with the phrase written in pencil, then changed her mind and wanted it run straight down the margin, the way a sailor's name runs down the rail of a ship. I told her it would wander. She said that was the point. I have set a hundred wedding notices and none of them ever asked me to break the lines.

By the time the light goes amber on the window, the column is locked and the ink is rolled. I pull the first proof myself. The words come up black and thin on the paper, each letter sitting a little apart from the last, and I see that the borrowed e's are slightly larger than the rest, so the line rises and falls like someone breathing in a quiet room.

Mrs Okonedo collects the proof at five. She holds it to the lamp for a long time, then folds it into her coat without a word. Ashdown asks if she was pleased. I tell him I don't know. The mismatched letters are the ones she came for, I think. I pull the forme apart and sort the type back into its boxes, all of it, the borrowed e's last.