Black lettering tattoo of a numbered passage in a serif typeface on the inner forearm of a person whose arm rests on a pink and grey leaf-patterned cloth.

Printed text quote tattoo on a forearm

Lettering · Forearm · Black and grey · Photo

A close photograph of a forearm, with a block of black serif text tattooed across the skin beneath a Roman numeral "I." heading. The text is crisp and evenly set in a single ink, with a slight curve following the arm. The bare arm and hand rest on a white fabric printed with pink and grey fern-like leaves, which gives a flat, bright background.

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Dear Marian,

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The lads have finally stopped arguing about the Waltzer. Dad says it runs on grease and nerve, and Mr Okafor says it runs on physics, which is why he has pinned a sheet of paper to the generator shed wall with one sentence written on it in capitals. An object at rest stays at rest. You know the one. Dad says it's the only thing he kept from Hastings Grammar, then admits he never uses it, because you can't argue with a spinning cup.

Last Thursday, on the Wellingborough field, the cups went round so fast the paint on the rims blurred. Ruth Kettle was in the third car with her boyfriend's scarf wound round one hand, shrieking that the ride was pulling her out of her seat. Dad threw the brake lever. The whole arm went still, and she kept going for a second, straight across the lane and into the rope. Nobody was hurt. She climbed out laughing and said she had never once in her life been so sure of a direction.

I keep thinking about that second, the one where nothing holds you. Dad says that's just how things go. You stop pushing and they carry on until something else gets in the way. I suppose the fair is like that too. We never stop. We just get shoved sideways by the next town.

I'm writing from the caravan with the lamp on and Alfie snoring in the bunk above me. The wind's come up off the Nene. I'll post this at Kettering in the morning.

Love, Dot

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