Black fine line script lettering reading NOT all who WANDER are LOST, placed on the lower leg near the ankle.

Quote lettering on a lower leg

Lettering · Ankle · Black and grey · Photo

The photograph shows black lettering tattooed on a lower leg near the ankle, with the words NOT, all who, WANDER and are lost arranged in overlapping handwritten script. The linework is thin and even, with some words set larger in capitals and others in lowercase cursive. The image is black and white, so the ink appears as solid black lines against pale skin, with the words stacked in a compact block.

Lettering Fine line Ankle Quote Word Script Text

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The onions have been going since before the watch changed, and Dodd wants them translucent, not brown, so you keep the heat low and the spoon moving. Somebody has pinned a torn page from a road atlas above the grill. Nobody knows who put it there. Across the Bay of Biscay someone has drawn a route in biro that loops the coast twice and then, for no reason anybody can give, stops in the middle of the sea.

Keep reading

You are the only one on the crew who reads maps for pleasure, which is why the captain's wife once pressed a ragged paperback into your hands, a line underlined in pencil: not all who wander are lost. You never told her you read it at the back of a bus station in Ostend with your boots off, feeling as if someone had written that sentence for your particular mess of a life. You kept the book. You kept the line too, in your head, the way you keep a recipe you will never write down.

Last night the swell came up from the south and the pans walked themselves across the range. You caught the stockpot with your hip, scalded two fingers and swore in three languages. Dodd laughed until he had to sit on a crate of tinned peaches. Afterwards you stood at the porthole with the dark coming off the water and tried to work out whether you were wandering or simply lost, and decided the difference was only whether you knew where the kettle was.

You fill the kettle now. The water takes its time, the way water does, and you wait for it with your palm flat on the cold steel, perfectly content to be going nowhere in particular.