Script phrase on the upper arm
Lettering · Upper arm · Black and grey · Photo
A black and white close-up of the inner upper arm showing the words to the sea written in a thin, flowing script. The linework is delicate and even, with the lettering set in a single line across the skin. The image is monochrome, with soft natural light and a shallow focus that keeps the tattoo as the clear subject.
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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction
Mum, the kettle has boiled dry twice since breakfast and I've stopped pretending I'm not watching the harbour wall. The Kestrel went out at four with Tom at the wheel and his brother Joe on the nets, and nobody in this village has said a word about the sky since. Dad would have laughed at me for that. He always said the sea keeps its own timetable and the rest of us just read it badly.
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The money came through from the cannery on Friday, all of it in one brown envelope with the Pearsons' crest on the flap. I've put it in the tin under the stairs, behind the Christmas candles. Don't go looking until I'm home. Mr Hale at the post office says the boats will be in by Thursday if the fog stays out past the Bell Rock, though he says that about most things.
Last night I walked the breakwater and found Grandad's lettering on the net shed, the paint nearly gone to grey. Two words in a curling hand, the same hand as the notes he used to slip into my lunch box. I stood there until the lamp at the end of the pier came on, and I thought about how he never once told me where he was headed, only that he'd be back on the tide.
So I'm going down now, with my coat buttoned and the tide tables folded in my pocket, to the sea. If the Kestrel's in sight, I'll wave. If it isn't, I'll wait anyway, and you can tell the kettle to stop shrieking at me.
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