Three photos of fine line black script tattoos on the forearm and wrist, showing the word Love, Love inside a heart outline, and Just breathe above coloured woven bracelets.

Love and Just breathe script tattoos on wrists

Fine line · Forearm · Black and grey · Photo

This collage shows three close-up photographs of small script tattoos on skin. The left image shows the word Love in looping black fine linework on the inner forearm, the top right shows Love written inside a heart outline on the wrist, and the bottom right shows Just breathe in thin black script above several coloured woven bracelets. The ink is black throughout and each photo is framed tightly on the tattoo.

Fine line Lettering Forearm Love Heart Script Word Bracelet

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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

Sit down by the stove and mind the kettle, because this is a long one and I'll not tell it twice. Old Tobias Quaile walked the cut from Braunston to Brentford with a sign-writer's brush in his coat and a tin of lamp black in his bag, and he painted names on the cabin doors of any boat whose owner would pay him a shilling and sit still for it.

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He never painted a word without asking what it was for. Nell Ashdown, who worked a narrowboat of coal and later of oranges, wanted just one word, and she wanted it small, on the inside of her wrist where only she would see it when she steered. Tobias said the word was too heavy for a boat. She said it was the only one she had ever been sure of, and the rest of the cargo could sink.

So he drew it for her on a scrap of cabin board first, the L leaning over like a man bending to hear, the O dropped into the crook of it like an egg in a nest, and then, because his fingers were numb from the frost, the whole thing wandered into a heart he had never meant to make. Nell looked at it a long while. Then she laughed and pushed her shilling across the tiller.

Tobias died in the winter of the big freeze, and his brushes went to a lock-keeper's daughter. When she opened the tin she found a slip of paper folded under the lid, and written on it in his cramped hand were the words he said to every frightened sitter before the first stroke: just breathe.