Black and grey realism tattoo of a rose and pocket watch with a banner reading never give up and never back down, on the outer thigh.

Rose and pocket watch on a thigh

Realism · Other · Black and grey · Photo

A large black and grey tattoo shows a shaded rose with leaves above a pocket watch, its face showing Roman numerals and a Chinese character at the centre. A ribbon banner wraps across the watch with the words never give up and never back down. The shading is smooth and tonal, with soft highlights on the petals and metal casing, and the design fills the upper thigh of a cropped photo.

Realism Other Rose Pocket watch Clock Banner Leaves Lettering

Find an artist for this

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

Dear Ada,

Keep reading

The big top came down on Tuesday, though Mr Pellow still talks as if it's standing. He sold the last of the elephants to a farmer outside Ludlow and wept into his tea about it, then counted the takings twice. Eleven pounds, four shillings. Your father's pocket watch stopped at a quarter past four that afternoon, which is the minute the band always struck up for the flying act, so I took it as a sign to go and sit with the horses instead.

I have been thinking about the rose. Rosie still wears hers, the one you drew on her thigh at Gerry's back in March, and she says the watch face is the only honest thing left in the whole outfit because it never pretends the hour is anything but what it is. She had the motto put along the ribbon herself, as if any of us needed reminding. Never give up. Never back down. Those words are pinned above the ticket booth now, in red felt letters that are already coming unstuck at the corners.

The dwarf who taught you your first knot died in the winter, and the tumblers have gone to a holiday park near Skegness where they teach children to walk on stilts for a fee. Nobody is hiring clowns this year. I met a man at the station who said the circus is a dead thing that keeps its eyes open out of manners, and I nearly hit him with my suitcase.

I am writing this from the caravan with the lamp turned low. Tonight I will wind your father's watch and set it right against the wireless, so it is finally telling the same time as the rest of the world. Then I will walk out to the field where the poles are stacked in the rain and count them, one, two, three, the way he taught us, until I can sleep.

Yours in the dust, Edie