Black and grey fine line tattoo of an infinity symbol with a feather, flying birds and the word Love on the top of a foot.

Infinity feather with birds on a foot

Fine line · Other · Black and grey · Photo

A close photograph of a tattoo on the top of a foot, showing an infinity symbol that curls into a shaded feather. Small birds in flight trail from the left, and the word Love and a name in script sit along the loop of the infinity symbol. The ink is dark grey-brown with fine outlines and soft shading on the feather, set against a pale patterned fabric.

Fine line Other Infinity symbol Feather Bird Script Love

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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

The kettle has been on the stove since the lock keeper's whistle, and you have stopped pretending you are not listening for the second boat. Your father's barge, the Mary Ellen, sits low in the water at Keadby with a load of Yorkshire coal, and the gulls are working the mudflats the way they always do before rain. You count them from the galley hatch. Eleven, then twelve, then a dozen lifting together as if someone had shaken a sheet.

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Hal worked the next boat down, the Constance, and for two summers he handed you ropes at every lock between here and Goole without once asking whether you wanted them handed. The winter he went out to the fishing grounds off Hull he left a grey, barred feather pressed inside your almanac, its quill split where he had pinned it. He said a bird that falls into a river will find its way back to the same bank. You told him that was nonsense, and kept the feather anyway.

Now the rain comes sideways off the Humber and the water turns the colour of weak tea, looping back on itself around the bend like a figure eight that cannot make up its mind. A horn sounds from the reach. You step onto the gunwale and grip the cold rail, and there is the Constance, nose up, black hull shining, and a shape on the foredeck lifting one hand. Nobody on the Trent would call that a miracle. Still, you let the kettle boil over and do not move until the birds have settled on the sluice gate again.