Fine line infinity symbol entwined with small leaves, tattooed on the back of the neck in dark ink.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Infinity symbol with leaves on the neck

Fine line · Neck · Black and grey · Photo

A small infinity symbol with a thin vine of leaves curling through it sits on the back of a person's neck. The linework is delicate and even, with the leaves filled in using a dark ink. The image is a close, softly focused shot with the hair pulled up and a light top visible below, and the tattoo sits as the clear focal point.

Fine line Botanical Neck Infinity Leaves Vine

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The vine had been growing through the gap in the hedge since before the lane was tarmacked, and by March it had looped itself around the two gateposts that Dora Pryce could never bring herself to cut. You had to lean in to see where it met itself. Her son said it was a figure of eight lying on its side, and she said it was the only sum she had ever got right.

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The letter came in the second week of April, from a solicitor in Ludlow, saying the farm had been sold to a man who wanted the hedges grubbed out for a bypass. Dora read it at the kitchen table with her boots still on. Outside, the wind shook yellow catkins off the hazel, and she thought of the summer Alan had strung wire between those posts so the vine would have something to climb.

She took cuttings on the Sunday, snipping each one just below a node the way he had shown her, and wrapped them in damp newspaper inside a biscuit tin. The surveyor came on Tuesday with his clipboard and his orange flags, and he wanted to know why anyone would keep a gate that opened onto nothing. Dora didn't argue. She tied a length of green garden twine round the top bar, pulled it tight, and showed him how the two ends met.

The tin rode on the passenger seat of the van to her sister's in Shrewsbury, where there was a patch of clay by the shed nobody had dug in years. She pressed the first cutting in with her thumb and kept the rest in the tin, because you always keep a few spare. Somewhere past Church Stretton she realised she had been humming, and that the tune had no beginning and no end, so she let it go round again.