Three matching black infinity symbol tattoos with the script words like Mother like Daughter, two on the tops of feet and one on a wrist.

Matching infinity script tattoos on feet and wrist

Lettering · Other · Black and grey · Photo

Three photographs show the same infinity symbol tattoo repeated on two feet and a wrist, with the script words like Mother like Daughter threaded through the loops. The linework is bold black with fine feathered strokes that add shading along the lower curves of the symbol. The ink is black throughout, and the subjects sit against a pale wooden floor with painted toenails and nails visible.

Lettering Other Forearm Infinity symbol Script lettering Feet Wrist Matching tattoo

Find an artist for this

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

The 6.40 to Carlisle is late again, so you stand under the clock at Crewe with your mother's green holdall at your feet, pretending the cold is the reason your hands won't keep still. Platform four smells of wet pigeons and diesel. The holdall came from a Tenby holiday that never happened, and it still has the luggage label with her name on it in biro, the letters leaning forward as if they are in a hurry.

Keep reading

Across the concourse the departures board flicks and clatters, rewriting destinations one letter at a time, the way your mother once rewrote your school reports before she signed them. She always said you were just like her: stubborn at the kettle, quick to forgive, slow to forget. You didn't believe her until the afternoon you found her looping handwriting in the margin of your own notebook, the same curl on the capital letters, as though the two of you had been taught by the same tired teacher.

The train slides in with a sigh of brakes. A guard with a lamp walks the length of it, calling out names that aren't yours. You think of the loop line behind your grandmother's house, how the rails bent back on themselves so that every train that left the cutting eventually came round again, if you were patient enough to wait by the fence.

You unfold the ticket and read it twice. Return, it says. You climb aboard, find a seat by the window, and watch the platform lights smear into one long bright line as the carriage pulls away, and you realise you have already started counting the minutes until the next time you will both be going the same way.