Black line drawing of an infinity symbol framed by ornamental scrolls and dots, shown as a tattoo design on a white background.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Infinity symbol with swirls

Black and grey · Flash

The drawing shows a bold infinity symbol at the centre, with curling scrolls and tendril-like swirls extending outwards from its top and bottom loops. Small dots are arranged along the left and right sides, and the outline is a single consistent black line. The design is set on a plain white background, with the composition symmetrical around the centre.

Infinity Swirl Scroll Dot Ornament Line drawing

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Marguerite had been awake since half past two, and by four the ovens were full and the flour on her forearms had gone grey and stiff. Tomas, the new lad, was still pretending to know where the rolling pins lived. She checked the proving drawer, pressed one bun with a floury thumb, and watched it sigh back into shape.

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The order sheet pinned above the sink said Mrs Okafor, one celebration cake, lemon and elderflower, to be collected at seven. Marguerite had promised a figure of eight in piped icing across the top, looping over itself, because the daughter was leaving for Leeds and her mother had asked for something that would not end. Marguerite had thought it sentimental and had said yes anyway. She filled a paper cone with buttercream the colour of weak tea, snipped the tip, and drew the first loop. It came out lopsided, so she drew it again.

Tomas came over with two mugs and watched her hand. "You go round twice," he said, "and then you go under." She laughed, because she did, and because he was right. The second loop closed cleanly. Then she added the curls on either side, small scrolls that rose and turned back like the ends of ribbon, and the dots along the edges, placed by eye, while Tomas counted them under his breath.

By six the light over the car park had gone from black to the colour of skimmed milk. The cake sat on the cooling rack, its symmetry a little forgiving, and Marguerite wiped the cone clean and wondered whether the icing would hold on the back seat of a car on the A1. Then she decided that was not her job. She wrote the collection time on the lid of the box, set it by the door, and went back to the dough.