Black fine line script tattoos on a forearm: an infinity symbol with three small birds and a name above Roman numerals, and a larger Carpe Diem lettering piece with Roman numerals below.

Infinity, name and Carpe Diem script on forearm

Fine line · Forearm · Black and grey · Photo

Two black fine line tattoos sit on the inner forearm and wrist. The upper piece shows an infinity loop with three small birds and a name in cursive script, with Roman numerals beneath it. The lower piece is a larger cursive Carpe Diem lettering design, with Roman numerals running down beside it, all in solid black ink on a light skin tone against a grey upholstered background.

Fine line Lettering Forearm Infinity symbol Bird Script Roman numeral Lettering Carpe diem

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The tower clock at Sallowby church had stopped at twenty to four, and Walter Pim, who had wound it every Sunday for forty-one years, could find no fault in the escapement. He sent his nephew Tobias up the ladder with a lamp and a tin of oil. The boy came down an hour later with pigeon feathers in his collar and a face like paper.

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Inside the case, pinned to the back plate where nobody ever looked, was a strip of card in Walter's own hand. It read CARPE DIEM, and beneath it, in smaller letters, the day he had married and the day his wife had died, both set in Roman numerals because she had always liked them better than plain figures. He had never told anyone why the clock mattered more to him than the church did.

Tobias wanted to know what the card had to do with the gears. Walter took the boy's hand and showed him the three swallows scratched into the verge, their wings folded, the mark of the first clockmaker who had kept this tower. They were not decoration, he said. They were a tally of every hour somebody had decided to take.

They mended the pallet that afternoon with a sliver of brass Walter had been saving since the war. When the bell struck five, the sound rolled out over the mudflats and the gulls lifted all at once. Tobias climbed down the ladder whistling, and Walter, watching the minute hand jump forward, did not bother to correct the time on his own wrist.