Small black typewriter-style lettering reading "i feel infinite." on the inner wrist of a hand held palm up against a pale pink sheet.

"i feel infinite." lettering on the inner wrist

Lettering · Forearm · Black and grey · Photo

A close photograph of a hand held palm up, showing a small line of typewriter-style lettering on the inner wrist that reads "i feel infinite." The letters are set in two lines, with the full stop at the end of the second line. The ink is dark and uniform against pale skin, and the plain pink bedding behind the hand keeps the focus on the tattoo.

Lettering Forearm Text Quote Typewriter font Wrist

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Sit down, sit down, the kettle's not long off. You want to know about the black machine in the back window of Pruett's? It came to me in the spring of fifty-two with the e stuck and the carriage going like a wet sock. Nobody in Haxby could get a letter out of it. Mrs Ada Fenwick had it from her late husband, who used it for the parish accounts and nothing else, and she wanted it fit to type her nephew's letters before he went up to Leeds.

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I had the thing apart on my bench for three days. Under the platen I found a slip of card folded small as a stamp, and on it someone had typed two lines in purple ink gone brown. i feel infinite. Only the one sentence, with the full stop struck so hard it had dented the card. I asked Ada whose it was. She swore she'd never seen it, and that her husband never typed a poem in his life, only invoices. So I cleaned the e, oiled the carriage, and put the slip back where I found it, because a machine ought to keep its secrets if it has any.

The nephew came for his letters. He was a thin lad with ink on his cuff, and when he saw the slip he laughed and said it was the only true thing anyone had typed in Haxby that year. Then he wrote to Leeds on the back of it, every word he had, and the keys clacked like hail on a shed roof.

Ada says the machine went to a school in Whitby in sixty-one. I never did learn what the slip meant, but now and then I think of those two purple lines waiting under a platen somewhere by the sea. Mind the step on your way out.