Black and white photo from behind of a woman with a messy bun, showing a small fine line script tattoo reading imagine with a peace sign beneath it on the back of the neck.

Imagine script with peace sign on the nape

Fine line · Neck · Black and grey · Photo

The photo shows the back of a person's head and neck, with dark hair gathered into a loose bun. A small tattoo of the word imagine in thin, cursive script sits on the nape, with a peace sign drawn beneath the word. The fine, even linework is in black ink, and the grey-toned photograph sits against an outdoor background with a white railing.

Fine line Lettering Neck Peace sign Script Word

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

Sit yourself down on that upturned creel, and mind the gull, he has his eye on your bread. You want to know how the word came to Skarrow. Every child on the island can read it, painted on the boat sheds and carved into the school bell, but few know who carried it over the water.

Keep reading

It was the winter the ferry stopped, the year Old Tam Greig's boat went down off the Bellhaven rocks. The men of three villages stood on the quay and would not speak to one another. Their wives had been feuding over the church roof and the grazing dykes for a generation, and the men had learned it from them. Nobody could agree who should pay for a new slipway, so nothing got built, and the children walked the cliff path in the sleet with their boots full of water.

Then a woman called Ada Brisk stepped off the mail boat with a wooden box of paints and a brush worn down to a whisker. She had no money and no kin here. She set up on the harbour wall in the rain and painted one word in letters as thin as fishing line, looping and running into each other, and beneath it she drew a small peace sign, the circle pulled tight as a knot. The men laughed and told her the rain would wash it off by Sunday.

It did not wash off. By spring the men came down to read it, one at a time, pretending they had only come for the tide. Nobody wanted to be the one who spoiled it, so they sat down together to argue about the slipway instead, and somehow they finished it. Ada took the mail boat away the next morning. The word is still there under the weed when the tide runs low, and if you bend close you can still make it out.