Black ink infinity symbol with the word sisters in script and a small heart over the i, fine line lettering tattoo on the side of the torso.

Infinity symbol with sisters script

Lettering · Ribs · Black and grey · Photo

A black infinity symbol loops across the skin, with the word sisters written in joined script lettering through its right-hand loop. A small solid heart sits above the i in the word. The ink is uniform black with fine, even linework and no shading or colour, and the photo is taken close up with the tattoo centred and the dark edge of clothing visible along the bottom.

Lettering Ribs Infinity Sister Script Heart

Find an artist for this

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

The kettle has boiled dry twice by the time Edna comes down the stairs, and you are already at the back door with your coat over one arm, reading the bus timetable pinned to the frame as though it might have changed since Tuesday. Across the yard Mrs Holt is pegging sheets in the thin March sun, pretending not to listen. Nobody in Calder Bridge needs a timetable to know when the 8.14 leaves for Leeds. You both just like something to look at that isn't each other's faces.

Keep reading

Last summer the sign-writer on Market Street drew the shape for you on a scrap of brown paper, a figure eight lying on its side, and charged you a shilling for the trouble. Edna wanted the heart tucked above the i, because that was where Mum used to keep her thimble on a chain, and because she said every word needs a bit of softness somewhere. You told her the loop meant it never ends. She said that was daft, it was only a sideways eight, and then she cried into the tea towel, which was not what either of you meant to do.

Now she has the small brown case with the broken catch, and she sets it on the step between you as if it might bite. Mrs Holt has stopped pegging. Edna opens her mouth, shuts it, and reaches for your sleeve instead, and that is the whole of the argument finished. The bus is a grey shape coming over the bridge. You walk her to the stop without saying anything clever, because the clever things were all said at the kitchen table in January.

When the bus pulls away you watch the back window until it turns past the mill and the road is empty again. Then you go inside, rinse the kettle, and find the scrap of brown paper folded in the drawer with the string. On the back, in her round pencil, she has written a single word and a heart: here. You put it in your pocket, which is the nearest thing this town has to a promise.