Black script lettering runs down the outer back of a woman's leg from thigh to ankle, shown from behind in denim shorts.

Script quotation down the back of a leg

Lettering · Thigh · Black and grey · Photo

A person in high-waisted denim shorts and a cropped top is photographed from behind, standing on a carpeted floor. A long, single line of black cursive script runs vertically down the outer back of one leg, from the upper thigh to the ankle, and the words are only partly legible. The lettering is black and grey on skin, with a plain pale wall and door behind the subject.

Lettering Thigh Calf Ankle Script Quote Lettering

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Hetty had been lettering shop glass since before the council started charging for the privilege, and she could tell a good hand from a rushed one by the sound of the brush. Tomasz, eleven weeks into his apprenticeship, rushed everything. He wanted the gold leaf out of the tin before the size went tacky, wanted the whole job done by Friday, and kept asking whether the descenders on the y could hang lower.

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'Lower and they'll catch on the bus shelter,' she said. 'Lettering is arithmetic. Every stroke owes the one before it.'

The shop sat at the foot of Ferndale House, a tower block with a view of the canal and a lift that worked when it felt like it. Mr Adeyemi's pawnshop had been on that corner longer than the tower had been on the hill. He wanted a quotation across the window in running script, copied out in his own careful hand from a card a customer had left behind: Money is a means of the power to create in one's mind. He said it was the only honest thing anybody had ever written about his trade, and he was not a man who said things lightly.

Hetty laid the first letters on the reverse side of the glass, the way her own master had taught her, so the words would read true from the pavement. Tomasz frowned at the mirror image and asked why they weren't just painted the right way round. She didn't answer him until the last word was down, the m curling like a wire. Then she stepped outside with him and Adeyemi, and the three of them looked up at the window. From the street, the line read clean and easy, as if it had always been there and the glass had simply agreed to hold it.