Two matching black tattoos of an infinity symbol with a feather and the word Forever in script, shown on the ankles of two feet.

Matching infinity and feather tattoos on feet

Fine line · Ankle · Black and grey · Photo

Two bare feet rest side by side on a wooden floor, each with a matching tattoo of an infinity symbol with a feather rising from its loop. The word Forever is written in cursive script along the lower stroke of the infinity sign. The linework is clean and dark, with soft grey shading across the feather, and the image is a close, well-lit view of the ankles and toes.

Fine line Lettering Ankle Infinity Feather Wing Forever Script Matching

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Dear Tom, The rain got into the greenhouse again last night, and under the tomato trellis I found a grey feather, long as my hand, lying across the path as if someone had dropped it on purpose. I've pinned it to the corkboard above the seed trays, next to your grandfather's old pencil, the one he sharpened with a craft knife until nothing was left but a stub.

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You'll remember he always said the swifts never stopped. They come in May and go up so high they hardly touch down, feeding and sleeping on the wing, and he reckoned that was how they kept going: a loop, out and back, out and back. He drew one for me on the back of a seed packet, a figure of eight lying on its side with a wing lifting from the top curl. I told him it looked like a sum that never came out. He laughed and said that was the point.

I went to the shed for the spade and found the tin where he kept his cards. Under them was the packet, soft as cloth, and he'd written FOREVER along the bottom stroke in that slanting hand he used for birthday cards. I sat on the upturned bucket for a good while. The beans have come up crooked this year, the blackbird has had the first strawberries, and I find I don't mind as much as I expected.

I'm posting the packet on, with the feather tucked inside. Keep it somewhere you'll see it when you're at the bench. And tell Hannah the runner beans are ready whenever she wants them. Pick them small, he always said, before they go stringy. Love, Nan.