Black script lettering reading 'We accept the love we think we deserve' across the ribs, in a lettering style.

Script quote tattoo along the ribs

Lettering · Ribs · Black and grey · Photo

The photo shows a two-line quotation in black cursive script across the side of the ribcage, with the top edge of a grey sports bra visible above it. The letterforms have smooth, even lines with a decorative swash on the capital W and a looped flourish on the first letter of the line. The ink is solid black with no shading or colour, against a light skin tone with soft, even lighting.

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The rain had come down on the Thursday market for nine days running, and the cloth awnings sagged over the stalls like wet sheets. Hester Vane sold mended crockery from a trestle at the far end, by the fish sheds, where the gutters ran brown. Every bowl she sold had a crack somewhere, and she had a way of telling customers where it was before they asked.

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A man called Corwen came every Thursday and bought the bowl with the worst crack, the one that split from rim to foot. He paid her full price and never once looked at the whole ones stacked beside it. "That one's sound," she told him in the third week, holding up a blue glazed bowl without a mark on it. "It's not for the likes of me," he said, and tucked the cracked one under his coat.

She began to keep the sound bowls at the back under a sack. She told herself a man who thought so little of himself would not thank her for a whole thing. In the ninth week the rain stopped for an hour and the sun came flat across the square, and Corwen did not come. Hester waited on her upturned crate until the stallholders began packing up, then wrapped the blue bowl in brown paper and carried it through the puddles to the rooms above the chandler's, where he lodged.

His door stood open. On the table sat the cracked bowl, full of pennies he had saved one by one, and beside it a note in careful capitals: I KEEP THE BROKEN THINGS BECAUSE I KNOW HOW THEY ARE MADE. Hester set the blue bowl down next to the note and said nothing. The following Thursday he came to the stall as usual, and she held out the blue bowl without a word. He took it in both hands and carried it home through the rain the way you carry something you have not yet decided you are allowed to keep.

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