Black fine line script reading Let it go with four small flying birds on the outer ankle and foot.

Let it go script and birds on the ankle

Lettering · Ankle · Black and grey · Photo

A black script reading "Let it go" runs along the outer side of the ankle, with four small bird silhouettes flying up and to the right of the lettering. The linework is thin and the ink is solid black with no shading or colour. The tattoo sits at the edge of the frame beside a red-painted big toe, with the foot shown at a slight angle against a grey cushion.

Lettering Fine line Ankle Script Bird Text

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The snow had shut the pass for three days, and Maud Pryce had run short of everything except patience, which she had never had much of. The Hollin Inn sat alone above the reservoir with one telephone line that died every night at nine. Tonight the last guest, a surveyor called Teodor Vance, came down to the kitchen with frost in his eyebrows and a complaint about the radiator in room four.

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"It isn't the radiator," Maud said, and handed him a candle. "It's the wind getting under the slates. My grandmother said the house let the weather in on purpose." He didn't laugh. He was looking past her at the scullery window, where four starlings had settled on the sill, their wings flat with ice, pecking at nothing. Maud had watched them come every evening since the storm. She had stopped trying to shoo them off.

He told her then, over cold tea, that his wife had left him in October and that he had come up to measure the dam for a company that meant to drown the valley by spring. "Every number I write down is a village going under," he said. "I keep trying to hold on to the drawings." Maud looked at the brass plate nailed above the bar, worn soft by three generations of thumbs, the words her grandmother had stamped into it: LET IT GO. She had always thought it was advice for the weather.

She unlatched the sash an inch. Cold rushed in and the candle bent flat. The starlings lifted together, four dark shapes climbing over the white roofs and turning up and to the right, as if the valley had simply opened its hand. Teodor watched them until they were gone. The dam would still be built, and he knew it. But when he went up to room four, he left the window open.