Black and white photo of bold black Hebrew lettering spelling the word ahava across the inner wrist, in a blackwork lettering style.

Hebrew lettering on a wrist

Lettering · Forearm · Black and grey · Photo

The photograph shows four bold black Hebrew letters across the inside of a wrist, forming the word אהבה. The letters have solid, slightly textured black fill with clean outlines, and some edges look softened from healing. The image is black and white, with the skin tone and background reduced to pale greys and the lettering framed centrally against the wrist.

Lettering Forearm Lettering Wrist

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The last sheet of paper aboard the Hollin Vale went into the galley kiln on the ninth day after the coolant leak, and after that every word we needed had to be cut, stamped or painted by hand. I was the only one left who could still cut the old square letters clean, so the council sent me to the hydroponics bay with a stylus, a pot of ochre and a list of notices that nobody wanted to read any more.

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Most of the list was rules: ration hours, the airlock order, who owed water to whom. I did those first, quickly, because rules are easy to keep small. The word I kept putting off was the one Dov had asked for before he went out on the spur tether, four letters he wanted on the inside of the nursery hatch. Alef, hey, bet, hey. He said the two heys looked like open doors, and that a child could read the whole word without knowing what it meant, which was the point.

I cut it on a Tuesday by the ship's clock, which is the only clock we have. The bet took longest, because the curve has to be pressed deep or the ochre wears off within a year. When I finished I stood back and saw the second hey leaned, its right post a fraction too long, and I nearly cut it again. Then I thought of Dov's hand on the hatch wheel, and left it.

Three weeks later a girl of about six put her palm flat against the lower stroke of the second hey and asked me what it said. I told her it said love. She frowned, the way children do at words that have no edges, and asked whether the door was open or shut. I told her it was open. She went through it.