Two black tattoos, each an ornate anchor with script lettering: love is patient on a forearm, and love is kind on the lower back.

Matching anchor tattoos with love is patient and love is

Lettering · Forearm · Black and grey · Photo

The image is a split view of two black tattoos, each pairing an ornate anchor with a line of script. The top photo shows love is patient on the forearm, and the bottom shows love is kind on the lower back, with a dressing and jeans visible. The anchors have patterned detail within the solid black outlines, and the lettering is clean and even against plain skin.

Lettering Forearm Back Anchor Script Lettering Quote

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The queue at Harrowmouth had stopped moving, and Nell Carrow knew the man at the front was lying before he finished his sentence. He had a cargo manifest for a boat called the Serafine, a crewman's card with a corner torn off, and a cousin waiting on the far side whose name did not match the one on his phone. She set his papers face down on the counter and asked about the canvas holdall at his feet.

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Inside was a folded shirt, a tin of loose tea, and two brass anchors on loops of red cord, one polished bright and one gone dull. Tucked between them was a sheet of lined paper covered in a child's careful capitals, a little drawn anchor in the corner, and the words LOVE IS KIND underlined twice. Nell read it, then read it again. The man said his daughter had made it for her grandmother, who had died in a hospital in Gdansk while he was at sea, and that he had been bringing the anchors home so they could be hung by the bed.

Tomasz, two booths down, called across that the bag needed a proper search. Nell held up the paper so the light from the window fell through it and asked the man to tell her what the words meant in his own language. He tried, haltingly, and she gave him the English back. He laughed then, a short surprised sound, and said his daughter had not got that line from any film. She had got it from the church.

Nell stamped the passport, handed back the papers and the holdall, and asked him to keep the anchors where the officers could see them. Through the glass the ferry's ramp came down with a clang, and she watched him walk towards it, the two brass anchors swinging on their cords, one bright and one dull, both pointing the same way.