Two bare feet resting on carpet, each with a fine line black script tattoo across the top of the foot, reading part of a quote.

Script quote tattoos on two feet

Fine line · Other · Black and grey · Photo

Two bare feet rest on a textured carpet, photographed from above. Each foot carries a thin black script tattoo, with the lettering running across the top of the foot in a handwritten style and ending in ellipses. The ink is solid black with no colour, and the carpet and dark trousers fill the background.

Fine line Lettering Other Quote Script Feet Text

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

The lift at Harrow Point had been dead since Easter, and by June the whole block had learned to count the stairs in its sleep. Fourteen floors. I was sixty-eight and had bought a bag of potatoes the size of a small dog, so when the lad from flat 11 came hopping up behind me on his new plaster, grinning, I told him to take the heavy end and be useful.

Keep reading

Tomas was nine and had come off his bike on the ramp by the bins. His mum worked nights at the hospital in Ilford and his dad had gone back to Lagos years before, so he spent his afternoons on my step doing sums in a notebook. On the eighth landing he stopped, out of breath, and said he could not do the rest. I looked at the cast, at the potatoes, at the sweating green wall. Then I shifted the bag onto my hip, bent my knees the way my father taught me to lift coal, and told him to climb on.

He weighed no more than the potatoes. I carried him the last six floors, counting aloud so he had something to listen to, and at the top he slid down and said, very seriously, 'You carried me.' I said I had. He thought about it and asked whether, when the cast came off, he could carry something for me in return. I said he could start with the potatoes.

Next morning the lift was working. Of course it was. I found a page torn from his notebook pushed under my door: a drawing of two pairs of feet on a staircase, and beneath them, in careful capitals, I CARRIED YOU... and lower down, ...YOU CARRIED ME. I kept it in the kitchen drawer with the takeaway menus. When the lift broke again in August, I went down to the bins with a bag of shopping and waited for him to come limping round the corner.