Colour tattoo of a parent holding a child in a black outline with blue and teal shading, with Italian script below, on a person's upper back near the shoulder blade.

Parent and child with Italian script on upper back

Back · Mixed · Photo

A stylised outline of an adult cradling a child, with a rounded head covering and simplified figures. The black linework is bold and smooth, and the figures are filled with a blue to teal gradient that fades to green at the lower edge. Italian script reading 'Il mio cuore e tuo per sempre' sits beneath the figures in black, and the design is centred on the upper back.

Back Child Silhouette Text Figure

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The officer at the Ventimiglia crossing turns your blue passport over twice, as if the photograph might change its mind. You keep one hand flat on the pushchair handle and count the rivets on the barrier. Behind you the coast road is still wet from the night rain, and the sea below it has the same green-blue as the lining of the coat folded across your knees.

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Your sister Livia wrote the sentence out in capitals on a paper napkin at the station in Genoa: IL MIO CUORE E TUO PER SEMPRE. My heart is yours for ever. She said it was what their nonna used to tell each grandchild at the door of the flat above the fishmonger, which was not quite true, because nonna had never said anything sweet without first checking the price of fish. You laughed and folded the napkin into eighths and tucked it in the zip pocket of the bag, where it has been ever since.

The officer asks what is in the bag. You unzip it and the napkin slides out, soft as cloth from handling. He reads it, lips moving, and something in his face loosens. He says your Italian is good for someone from Leeds. You say your sister taught you, and he says that explains the handwriting. He hands the passport back with the stamp already drying, and waves the pushchair through with two fingers.

On the far side the road bends down toward the water, and the boy in the pushchair lifts one small fist at the barrier as if he is saying goodbye to it. You say the sentence once more under your breath, the way you would test a key in a lock before you trust the door to open.