Black lettering tattoo of an infinity symbol joined to the word love in cursive script, on the inner forearm close to the wrist.

Infinity symbol with love script on wrist

Lettering · Forearm · Black and grey · Photo

A close photograph of the inner wrist and forearm showing a black tattoo of an infinity symbol that flows into the cursive word love. The linework is bold and smooth, with solid black ink and no shading. The image is in warm tones against a dark background, with the tattoo centred in the frame.

Lettering Forearm Infinity Love Script Symbol

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The mixer has been grinding since half past three, and by now you can tell from its note alone when the dough has turned from wet sand into something that will hold. Alma taught you that with a wooden spoon and no clock. "Listen for it going quiet," she said, and you thought she was being poetic until the bowl stopped complaining and you understood her.

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Before the sky over the car park goes grey, you fold the dough on the marble, pulling each side across and under in a long figure of eight that never quite closes at the middle. Alma called it the lazy loop. Every fold stretches the gluten and rebuilds it, so the loaves that come out at seven will have a structure nobody can see. The radio on the shelf murmurs about the bus strike and the price of diesel, and you let it talk.

At the end of the bench the proving tins sit in a row like small drums, and beside them Alma has left her icing bag, half full of white glaze. The christening cakes need their names, and she always wrote the lettering freehand, dragging the nozzle out into a tail that loops back on itself. You try the word on a spare scone first. The o comes out fat, the v wobbles, and the last e swings up like a question that has decided to be kind.

When the first tray comes out, the crust crackles as it cools, and you tap a loaf on its base to hear it ring hollow. Alma's chalk note is still on the board by the door from her last morning: Keep the oven hot and keep the loop going. You wipe the flour from your hands, haul the shutter up, and watch the street turn pink above the rooftops, the first customer already waiting outside with his hat in his hands.