Black and grey fine line script quote tattoo running across a woman's ribs, photographed in black and white.

Script quote tattoo on ribs

Fine line · Ribs · Black and grey · Photo

A black and white photograph of a woman's side and ribs, with her hand resting on her chest. A thin, handwritten script quote is tattooed along the ribs, with the lines of text running diagonally across the skin. The soft focus and natural light keep attention on the lettering, and the white tank top and grey background sit at the edges of the frame.

Fine line Lettering Ribs Script Quote Handwriting Hand Woman

Find an artist for this

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

Ada found the letter behind the stove in the refuge at Scarrow Pass the week the thaw opened the track. It was folded twice and stiff with damp, and the hand on it was small and forward-leaning, each line sliding downhill as though it had somewhere else to be. Nothing was written on the outside. Inside, in pencil, a surveyor named Tom Brannock said he was sorry, that the snow had come early, and that he had left his notes in the cairn under the north stone.

Keep reading

She went up the next morning with a flask and her father's ice axe, though the slope had already softened to grey slush under her boots. The notes were there in an oilcloth wrap, pages of bearings and sketched ridges, and beneath them lay a second letter addressed to Esther Cade of Ling Bridge. Ada knew the name. Esther kept the post office in the village and had spent three winters watching the road for a man who promised he would be back before the first frost.

Ada carried both down that afternoon. The bell above the post office door rang when she pushed it open, and Esther looked up from the counter with the careful face of someone who had stopped expecting anything. Ada set the envelope between them, its corners still curled from the wet. Esther did not open it at once. She ran her thumb along the slanted script, the way you might trace a path you already knew by heart, and then she laughed, once, and asked whether Ada would stay for tea.

Ada walked back up the pass before dark, and for the first time in a year she left the refuge door open to the evening.