Fine line handwritten script reading "Just be there" in black ink on a white background, shown as a tattoo design with no body placement visible.

"Just be there" handwritten script

Fine line · Black and grey · Flash

A single line of handwritten script reads "Just be there", with a looping capital J and a long connecting stroke running under the words. The linework is thin and even, with no shading or fill. It is shown in black on a plain white background with generous margins.

Fine line Lettering Handwriting Script Quote

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 lift on Harrow House had been dead since Tuesday, and by Friday Ruth Adeyemi had counted all two hundred and twelve steps between the ground floor and her flat on the eleventh. Her son had rung twice from Leeds to ask whether she wanted him to drive down. She told him no, the way she had told him no about the stairlift, the carer and the bungalow in Clacton with the nice man next door who wore a cravat to take the bins out.

Keep reading

On the sixth landing her knees gave out and she sat on the concrete step with a carrier bag of tins across her lap. Above her the strip light buzzed. Footsteps came down from the floors above, quick and uneven, and a teenage boy in a grey hoodie stopped beside her. It was Dev from 4B, who had once set fire to a wheelie bin and apologised so sincerely that she gave him a custard cream. He looked at the bag, looked at her, and did not offer to carry anything.

'Lift's still off,' he said.

'Yeah,' said Ruth. He sat down on the step below hers, elbows on his knees, and for a while neither of them said a word. She could hear the estate through the broken window at the landing end, a dog barking, somebody's radio, the bus brakes on the high street. He had his phone out but he was not looking at it. Once he coughed and started to say something, then stopped, and she was grateful, because she had no idea what either of them would have said.

When she finally stood, he picked up the bag without asking, and she let him. At the eleventh floor he set it down outside her door and went back towards the stairs, lifting one hand over his shoulder. She had wanted someone to fix the lift, or at least to promise it would be fixed. Instead he had stayed on the step until she was ready, and that was enough to make the last flight feel like something she could finish.