Two forearms side by side, each with a fine black script tattoo reading "i am because you are" in a Lettering style, placed on the forearm.

Matching quote tattoos on two forearms

Lettering · Forearm · Black and grey · Photo

Two forearms are shown side by side against a pale, textured fabric backdrop, one arm slightly higher than the other. Each forearm carries the same phrase, "i am because you are", written in thin black cursive script with a delicate, even linework. The ink is solid black with no colour, and the tattoos are centred along the length of each forearm.

Lettering Fine line Forearm Quote Script Matching

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The runner beans came up first on the south wall, just as Dot had said they would, though she had been dead since March and I had never once believed her about anything to do with weather. I found them on a Tuesday, a green fuzz of seedlings pushing through the mulch I had forgotten to spread, and I stood in my wellies with a fork in my hand and laughed out loud, which startled the blackbird off the water butt.

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The seed tin was still in her shed, its lid rusted to the rim. Underneath the packets was a card folded twice, the pencil faded to silver. Someone had written i am because you are across the top in her looping hand, with a date from 1978 beneath it. She never told me where it came from. When I asked, she only said it was what the men on the allotment used to call across the fence when one lent another a spade, and that she thought it was the nicest thing a person could say about a neighbour.

Tom came round on Sunday with his ladder and his opinions about drainage. He read the card standing in her kitchen doorway, turning it over as if there might be instructions on the back. "Is it a saying?" he asked. "It's what you say to someone who's kept you going," I said, and then felt foolish, because it sounded like something from a greeting card. He didn't smile. He went out to the wall and started tying the first cane.

We pushed the card under the first stake, face down, so the rain would not take the pencil. By evening the tendrils had reached the second cane and were feeling for the third, each one leaning towards the next as if it knew exactly where the support would be. Tom held the twine while I knotted it. Neither of us said anything for a while. The beans kept climbing in the dusk, one hand reaching for the next.