Black and grey fine line script tattoo reading 'To die will be an awfully big adventure' along the ribs, with a hand resting on the chest.

Script quote tattoo along the ribs

Fine line · Ribs · Black and grey · Photo

A black and white photograph of a fine line script tattoo running diagonally across the side of a torso, reading 'To die will be an awfully big adventure' over two lines. A hand with dark painted nails rests against the chest above it. The thin, even linework is sharp and the shading is minimal, with the soft grey tones of the skin keeping the focus on the lettering.

Fine line Lettering Ribs Quote Script Text

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The frost had skinned the water trough again, so Hob Tancred broke it with the heel of his boot before he let the ewes near. Their breath hung over the field like smoke from a pipe nobody was smoking. Behind him the farmhouse showed one lit window, where his wife Agnes sat with the lamp turned low, pretending she was not waiting for him.

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He had been out since before light with the dog, Bess, who was half blind now and walked with her nose against his calf. The lambs had come early that year, in a February that could not make up its mind. Three were already dead. The fourth, a tup lamb with a black ear, was stood up in the straw by the stove when he came in, shaking, and Agnes said nothing about the state of his boots.

Hob sat on the settle and took off his cap. 'The top wall's gone over in the night,' he said. 'Could have been the wind.' Agnes laughed at him, which was her way of saying she had heard the wind too. 'Every winter the hill takes a bit back,' she said. 'You don't fight the whole of it. You keep the good ewes in the low pen and let the rest go up where the snow is clean.'

Hob did not answer. He watched the lamb suck at a rag dipped in warm milk, its whole small body going at it, and he thought of the black-eared thing wandering the high ground with the wind in its wool. 'An awfully big adventure, that,' Agnes said, not looking up from her darning, and that was the only thing anybody said about it that night. In spring they found the wall flat and the top field green as a bottle, and the lamb was the first over the stile, off to the far end of the world as if it had been promised.