Black and grey lettering reading "i feel infinite" in a typewriter-style font across the inner wrist and forearm.

"i feel infinite" lettering on a wrist

Lettering · Forearm · Black and grey · Photo

A black and white photograph of an inner wrist and forearm with the words "i feel infinite" tattooed in three lines, with "i" above "feel" and "infinite" below. The letters use a typewriter-style serif font with fine, even linework and solid black ink. The composition is close and centred on the wrist, with a partly visible hand at the top edge and a dark, textured surface beneath the arm.

Lettering Forearm Text Quote Word

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The machine came through my lane at twenty past four, wrapped in a moth-eaten blanket and strapped to a trolley like a patient. Grey enamel, a cracked carriage return, a case of keys worn pale in the middle. The woman pushing it had the flat, patient face of someone who had already been asked too many questions that day. I asked what she was taking across, and she said, "Words, mostly," and waited to see whether I would laugh.

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I didn't. I unclipped the lid and found a single sheet rolled into the platen, the ink still fresh enough to smudge under my thumb. Three lines, centred the way typists centre a poem: one small word, then two longer ones beneath it. The rest of the page was blank. She said it was a telegram to a sister in Ostrava she had not spoken to in nineteen years, typed four times, with only the lines she could stand behind kept on the final version.

Regulations say a typewriter is a machine, and a machine is declared. I wrote it down. Then I asked whether she wanted the sheet stamped, since paper crossing a border is still paper, and she shook her head and drew it out herself, folding it once along the middle of the word infinite.

When the barrier lifted she rolled the carriage back with one hard pull, and the bell rang out across the empty lanes like a small, stubborn answer. I stamped her form, handed back the passport, and listened until her taillights were gone. Then I went back to my cabin and, for no reason I could have given my supervisor, typed the same three lines on the back of a customs slip, and found the old keys still had plenty of room left on the page.