Close-up of a fine line black script tattoo reading 'this too shall pass' along the collarbone near the shoulder.

Script quote 'this too shall pass' on collarbone

Fine line · Chest · Black and grey · Photo

The photograph shows a handwritten style script reading 'this too shall pass' in thin black linework, running diagonally across the upper chest along the collarbone towards the shoulder. The lines are fine and even with small variations in weight that suggest a hand-drawn script. The soft focus background and white garment at the bottom of the frame keep attention on the lettering.

Fine line Lettering Chest Quote Script Text Word

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Settle yourselves, and mind the chairs, because Mr Ashby has gone off to find his spectacles and nobody dances till the band's tuned. Right. You'll want the story of the Lantern Ballroom the winter the roof came in. Hush now, and I'll tell it once.

Keep reading

It was February and the sea wind had been at the slates all week. By eight o'clock there was a bucket under the lamp by the stage and a bigger one under the cloakroom door, and by nine the water was coming through the ceiling plaster in long brown tongues. Half the room wanted to go home. Maureen Doyle sat on the piano stool in her good green frock and cried, because her Ronnie's ship was three days late into Hull and she'd promised him a foxtrot when he got back. Irene Pask, who had taught the waltz in that hall for thirty-one years, took the pencil from behind her ear and wrote something on the back of the bandleader's score.

'Play it through,' she said, and pushed the sheet across. Across the top, in her round schoolroom hand, were the words her mother used to say over the sink: this too shall pass. The drummer read it and laughed, then didn't. They played the waltz with the buckets clanking in time, and the couples went round the wet boards in their stockings, holding their shoes.

Ronnie came in at half past eleven, soaked to the skin, and asked why everyone was dancing in a flood. Maureen didn't answer him. She just took his hand and led him out past the buckets. Next morning the roof men found the sheet music folded in the cloakroom, the ink run but the line still legible, and Irene kept it in her coat pocket for the rest of her life.