Black and white photo of fine line script reading Just Breathe running vertically along a person's ribs, with the torso cropped below the chest.

Just Breathe script along the ribs

Fine line · Ribs · Black and grey · Photo

The photograph shows the side of a torso in black and white, with the lower chest and abdomen visible and the head cropped out of frame. The words Just Breathe are written in a flowing, cursive script in thin black linework, running vertically from the ribcage towards the waistband of the jeans. The image is evenly lit against a dark background, with the tattoo as the clear focal point.

Fine line Lettering Ribs Quote Script

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The third bubble collapsed again, and Mirrin wiped the soot from her eyes with the back of her wrist while the furnace roared at her knees. Master Tallow had taught glassblowers in the river town of Hesk for forty winters, and he had never once raised his voice. He only leaned over the bench, tapped the pipe with one thick finger, and said the same thing he always said. Just breathe.

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She did not believe him. Every breath she drew seemed to tremble. The glass of Hesk was known up and down the kingdom of Ammerlay for one strange quality: its vessels rang faintly when filled, so that a jug of river water hummed like a sleeping bee. Nobody could explain it, though the old women said the glass remembered whoever had blown it. Mirrin wanted only to make one thing that would not crack in the annealing oven.

On the ninth night of the autumn fair, when the other apprentices had gone off to dance, she sat alone with the pipe and the cooling embers. She stopped trying. She let the air leave her slowly, the way the river went out past the mill wheel, and drew it back in the same way. The gather turned on the rod. The bubble rose round and steady, and when she set it to cool it gave out one low note.

Master Tallow found it at dawn and said nothing for a long time. Then he carried it to the window and held it up to the light, where the words she had breathed into the glass showed faintly through the wall, curling down its side like a line of ink. He never sold it. It stands on his sill still, and when the wind is right, the town says, it hums the same two words.