Fine line script word Joy joined to an infinity symbol, tattooed on the inner wrist and forearm, in a reddish-brown single ink.

Joy script with infinity symbol on wrist

Fine line · Forearm · Black and grey · Photo

A fine line script word reading Joy is tattooed on the inner wrist, with its J and y extended into a looping infinity symbol that runs through the left side of the lettering. The linework is thin and even, with no shading, and the single ink appears reddish brown in this warm-toned photo. The tattoo sits in the centre of the frame against plain skin, with a window and patterned curtain blurred in the background.

Fine line Lettering Forearm Infinity symbol Script Word

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The seating plan had been pinned to the church noticeboard for a week before anyone spotted the problem, and it was me who spotted it, because I had lettered the place cards. Every one said Joy in the same looping hand, the infinity sign running through the J like a stitch pulling two threads together. Mrs Abernethy from the flower guild held one up to the window and asked whether it was meant to be a joke.

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It was not a joke. My mother wrote her grocery lists that way, looping the letters so the pen never lifted, and when she died I inherited a shoebox of them along with her ink pots. I had not planned to put her habit on forty cards for a wedding in Sussex, but the bride had asked for something that looked hand-made, and nothing looks more hand-made than a loop you refuse to correct.

On the afternoon, I stood at the back of the marquee while the vicar's nephew read a poem about tides. The guests kept picking up their cards and turning them over, as if the word might be printed on the back too. The bride's father found me by the trestle tables, card in hand, and asked what the loop was for. I told him it was for going round again, which was the only answer I had.

Later, when the lanterns were lit and the cards had gone into pockets and handbags, I found one left on the table, face down, the ink feathered where someone had set a glass on it. I took it home. It sits in the shoebox now, between her lists, and when I lift the lid the loop catches the lamplight the way ink does once it has been left alone long enough to dry.