Close photo of a fine line script tattoo reading Passion with a cross beneath it, placed on the back of the neck below dark hair.

Passion script tattoo on the neck

Lettering · Neck · Black and grey · Photo

A dark hair fringe frames the top of the image, with the back of a neck below. The word Passion is written in thin, single-line script in dark ink, with a simple cross drawn through the lower part of the letters. The image is monochrome, with a soft vignette and a warm skin tone around the design.

Lettering Fine line Neck Script Cross Lettering

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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

You are up a stepladder at half past six, the fairground still grey with dew, painting the last letters of the sign over the Dodgem stall. Mrs Ferrante wants the word PASSION in curling script across the board, the way the lettering on her late husband's cigar box used to curl. You have done the P and the a and the ss, and your brush is loaded with enamel that smells of linseed and diesel.

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The cross is her idea. She stands below in a camel coat, arms folded, and says it has to go through the bottom of the word, low, where the eye lands last. You tell her the fair will be in Ipswich by Thursday and nobody reads a sign that fast. She says that is precisely why. So you draw the upright first, then the crossbar, one steady hand on a wobbling ladder, and the cross slices through the tails of the letters like a clothes peg pinning a sheet.

By the time the generator coughs into life, the sign catches the first sun and the whole booth looks as though it means something. Lads from the rides come over to look. One of them asks what passion has to do with candy floss and a lucky dip. You shrug and wipe the brush on your jeans. Mrs Ferrante pays you in folded notes and a jar of pickled walnuts.

That evening you climb down, wipe your palms, and notice the paint is still wet on the crossbar. Someone has pressed a thumb into it on the way past. You leave it. The print sits where the cross meets the final letter, a small smudged whorl, and every night after that, when the lights come on over the lot, it is the first thing you look for.