Black and grey photo of the word freedom in serif lettering with a small bird above the final letters, tattooed on the wrist.

Freedom lettering with a bird on the wrist

Lettering · Other · Black and grey · Photo

A close photograph of the word freedom tattooed in a serif typeface across the inside of a wrist, with a small bird in flight above the end of the word. The lettering is solid black with soft, slightly feathered edges, and the bird is drawn in a simple silhouette. The plain pale skin and dark background keep the focus on the text and its placement.

Lettering Other Freedom Word Bird Serif

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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

Shift over and mind the ruts, because this road has eaten better drivers than you. I'll tell it the way my grandmother told it to me, sat on a crate outside the Ninety Mile well, and you can judge the truth of it yourself when the sun goes down.

Keep reading

There was a gate at the end of the Carrow road, painted white once, and on it some clerk had lettered the word FREEDOM in a proper serif, the kind with little feet on the letters, so the word looked like it was standing its ground. Nobody in Carrow could read it without feeling a bit taller. The gate kept a field of nothing, mostly thistle and bone, and the town kept the key on a nail in the church.

One summer a girl named Ida Marr came walking up that road with a satchel and a dead man's pocket watch. She stopped at the gate, read the word twice, and laughed so hard she sat down in the dust. Her brothers had been sold for debts in the next county, and she had been promised the same. Freedom, she said, was only a word on a gate if you could not walk through it. So she climbed over, and above the gate a small swallow dropped down and settled on the top rail, as if it had been waiting for someone with nerve.

The swallow flew ahead of her every mile to the coast, and when she got there she found the sea had its own gate, and the bird was already perched on it. Ida went home by the same road with her brothers beside her, and the word on the gate looked smaller after that, though nobody in Carrow ever painted over it.