Black and grey fine line tattoo on the inner wrist showing an infinity symbol with the word faith and heb 11:1 beneath, with three small birds flying above.

Infinity symbol, faith script and birds on wrist

Fine line · Forearm · Black and grey · Photo

A black ink tattoo on the inner wrist combines an infinity loop with the word faith written in script inside it, and the reference heb 11:1 printed in small letters below. Three small bird silhouettes sit above the loop, and the photograph is a black and white close view of the skin. The linework is thin and even, with the lettering and birds in solid black ink and no shading.

Fine line Lettering Forearm Infinity Faith Bird Script

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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

Sit nearer, you lot, the fire's only good for another hour and I'll not tell this twice. My grandmother held the rigging for the Corrigan Brothers' Travelling Big Top the summer the canvas gave out over Shrewsbury. Sixty feet of tent, and a hole the size of a church bell where the middle pole had rotted through. Nobody was coming to see flying acts under a sky full of rain, but the Corrigans had three trapeze birds left and a bill to meet, so they went up anyway.

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The flyer was a girl called Nell Ashdown, and she had a habit of counting before she let go. One, two, three, the bar swinging out over nothing. The catcher, a big quiet man named Tobias Reeve, hung upside down by his knees and waited. Everyone in the stands had stopped chewing. My grandmother said the rain on the canvas sounded like someone tapping to be let in.

Nell did not let go on three. She stopped, hung in the wet air with her hands open and her toes pointed at the lamps, and looked down at the sawdust as if she could see the whole season in it. Then she let go on four, and the ring filled with her, and Tobias caught her by the wrists exactly where the bar should have been. Nobody in that tent could say how he knew. He only ever said he'd felt the weight coming before it arrived.

The circus folded in the spring and the birds scattered to three different towns. Nell never missed a count after that, and Gran kept a scrap of the torn rigging rope in her apron pocket for the rest of her days, worn soft as cloth. Whenever it rained, she'd take it out and turn it over in her fingers, and she'd start counting under her breath.