Black script reading Love me for who I am runs across the collarbone with a small black butterfly, and a pink shaded butterfly sits on the shoulder.

Script quote and butterflies on collarbone

Lettering · Shoulder · Mixed · Photo

A close photograph of a woman's upper back and shoulder, with a fine black script tattoo reading Love me for who I am running diagonally across the collarbone. A small black butterfly sits between the words, and a larger butterfly with pink and red shading is placed on the shoulder. The skin is softly lit against a dark background, with the tattoo as the main focus.

Lettering Shoulder Chest Script Quote Butterfly Collarbone

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The brush was already loaded when the rain started again, so Nell kept painting. Stall nineteen on Greyfriars Market had wanted its name in gold since March, and gold leaf does not forgive a wet hand. She worked the script across the tin sign in long, leaning strokes, the way her mother taught her, lifting at every loop so the hairlines stayed thin.

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Across the aisle, Mr Okafor sold secondhand paperbacks under a tarpaulin that sagged with water. He had asked her for something that wasn't a shop name. 'Put a line on the back board,' he said, 'something people will stop for.' She had written the same five words on a scrap of card a dozen times: Love me for who I am. It looked like a request, he said, and people trusted requests more than promises.

She painted two butterflies in the margin, one small between the words where a breath would go, one larger in the corner where the eye lands last. The big one she shaded rose and red, mixing the pigment on the lid of a jam jar because the tube had frozen in her van. When the rain finally thinned, Okafor climbed onto a crate to hang the board, and the wind caught it and turned it, showing the gold side to the street.

Nobody bought a paperback that afternoon. A girl with a pushchair stopped, read the board twice, and laughed the way people laugh when something lands on them unexpectedly. Nell packed her brushes and didn't wait to see the girl walk on. Some words, she had learned, do their work without the painter standing there to watch.