Collage of four fine line infinity symbol tattoos with script wording, shown on a wrist, a finger and the upper back.

Infinity symbol tattoos in a four-photo collage

Fine line · Forearm · Black and grey · Photo

A four-panel collage of infinity symbol tattoos on skin. Two wrist pieces combine the symbol with script wording, one reading Live the life you love in a mix of handwriting and block capitals and the other spelling family within an infinity loop with the letters E, L and A around it. A small plain infinity symbol sits on a finger, and another with the word real sits on the upper back. All the ink is black, with fine, even linework and simple compositions.

Fine line Lettering Forearm Hand Back Infinity symbol Script Lettering Family

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The ribbon reel had gone soft at the edges by eleven, the way everything did when the rain came sideways off the canal and under the awning. Nell Harker pinched the loose end flat with her thumb and wound the satin around her fingers in the figure of eight her mother had shown her, the one that never quite closed at the crossing. Water pooled in the dip of the trestle and crept towards the buttons.

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Mr Pell from the cobbler's, three stalls down, came splashing over with a carrier bag held against his chest. Inside were his late wife's sewing things: a tin of hooks, a pincushion shaped like a tomato, and a card of black silk thread wound so tightly it had gone hard. "She'd want them used," he said, and then, looking at the reel in her hands, "Don't let them sit in a drawer like she did."

Nell didn't know what to say, so she said nothing and unwound a length of the thread, holding it up to the grey light. It was fine and even, and it doubled back on itself where she pulled it tight. She sat on an upturned crate and worked a small loop, then another, each stitch walking over the last until the shape made sense. At the crossing she pressed the thread flat with a fingernail and sewed it down with a tiny backstitch.

When she looked up he had gone quiet, his eyes on the figure of eight in her lap. "Same as the cloth," he said. "You can go round it forever and never find the start." She tied it off, bit the end short, and pressed the ribbon into his palm. The rain kept falling, and neither of them moved to shelter.