Black and grey photo of a script lettering tattoo reading We're simply meant to be on the inner wrist and forearm.

Script quote on the inner wrist

Lettering · Forearm · Black and grey · Photo

The tattoo is a handwritten style script quote reading "We're simply meant to be..." in black ink, running diagonally across the inner wrist. The letters have smooth, even linework with some variation in thickness, and the ellipsis trails off at the end of the second line. The photo is in black and white, with soft lighting and a plain background that keeps focus on the text.

Lettering Forearm Script Quote Text

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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

You are up a ladder at the back of the big top at Harrow Fields, the last week of September, painting the day's words onto the side of the ticket wagon because the printer in Leeds went bust and nobody else on the show can letter by hand. The canvas sags above you where the tent has not dried since the rain. Your brush is loaded with cream, and you are working the R of Rosalind with a care you have never given to anything else.

Keep reading

Rosalind is the wire walker. She has been on the lines since before you could read, and she has three weeks left on her contract before the owner sells the elephants and the tent goes to a scrapyard outside Doncaster. She climbs the ladder without looking at the rungs. Paint me something to finish, she says, and hands you a scrap of card, her hand slanting like a wire in wind: We're simply meant to be...

You ask her what the rest of it says. She shrugs and says the rest is for whoever is still standing when the lights go off. You paint the line on the wagon anyway, the dots trailing off the edge of the board onto bare grey wood, and she stands below with her arms folded and tells you the spacing is off.

In the morning the wagon is gone to auction in a lorry that smells of diesel and wet straw, but the words are still there, cream on red, and the tent folds itself into the mud behind you. Rosalind's ladder leans against the fence. You think the trailing dots are the only honest part of any show, the bit where the performer stops and lets the audience finish the sentence.