Two hands overlapping on a green marble surface, with a fine line heart and infinity tattoo on one ring finger and a script word on the other hand's finger.

Heart and infinity fine line tattoos on fingers

Fine line · Hand · Black and grey · Photo

Two hands rest one over the other on a dark green marble surface, with the fingers of the lighter hand overlapping the darker one. A small fine line heart combined with an infinity loop sits on one ring finger, and a script word partly visible on a finger of the other hand is cut off by the frame. The ink is dark grey to black, and the pale pink and white nails provide the only colour in the composition.

Fine line Lettering Hand Heart Infinity Script Hand

Find an artist for this

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

Verania came up from the harbour with the order changed for the third time that week. Quintus, the mason, wiped his hands on his apron and listened. She wanted no Latin on the slab, no ivy, no verse borrowed from the poets. She wanted a heart, drawn fine as a hair, with a loop of line running through it that never met its own start, and beneath it the single word she had been practising on wax tablets all winter.

Keep reading

Quintus had cut ten thousand names in Londinium and could not recall a single request for a knot. He sketched it first on a scrap of limestone with a point, then again with the flat of the chisel, the loop crossing and recrossing until his wrist ached. The marble was the green kind shipped up from the south coast, veined dark like pond water, and it took a fine line badly. Every slip showed. He worked at dusk with a lamp hung from a nail, and his apprentice Dubnus held the lamp steady and asked no questions.

On the seventh evening Verania brought the man who had come with her into the workshop. They laid their hands on the bench beside the slab, one set over the other, fingers tangled in the lamplight. She said the word was for him. Quintus looked at the two hands, pale over brown, and saw that the loop would have to be cut so that a thumb could rest across it without breaking the line. He moved the lamp. He began again.

The stone went up at the cemetery gate before the first frost. Nobody read the word aloud in Quintus's hearing, and he never learned whether it was spelled as she had practised it. Dubnus swore years later that the knot had come out exactly as asked, a heart with no beginning and no end, and a gap at the foot of the stone where a second name was meant to go.